I should say, I married a man with three cats, one of whom ended up there becauseof me. Anyway.
They have very distinct personalities, and we often find ourselves talking to people about them as if they were our children.
Occasionally, I also treat them like children. With the yelling and the spankings.
In the year and four months I have been married, I've discovered something very important about myself:
Diego de la sofa. They all have fancy names. barfs on the couch/hand-crocheted rug from my grandmother/my suit jacket/in my laundry basket? Yell at the guilty cat.
Find bits and pieces of my expensive living room rug strewn about the house? Holler at the guilty cat(s).
Hear a cat ripping yet more pieces of
Cleaning the litter box makes me bitter. Lint rolling the cat hair off my clothes/furniture makes me roll my eyes.
They only way I could teach Daisy to stop biting/hissing/turning into the little girl from the exorcist was to spank her. Yep. I spanked my angry, hissing, clawing female cat.
And do you know how much cat food costs? The kind that limits the barfing to the items listed above, and doesn't end up in thousands of gooey, warm wet piles ALL OVER MY HOUSE? A lot. And we live in constant fear that the only grocery stores where we can find our expensive, very specific "salmon and brown rice" kibble will stop selling our brand.
And then there is Stank Cat the Bad. (Aka Minion Underfoot, Destroyer of Worlds. True Story.) People always ask,"What kind of crazy person bathes a cat???" I will tell you who: The
and you fear the world is ending. He regularly starts fight with Daisy Doomsayer,Queen of the Underworld, fights which involve hissing/growling/biting/clawing all over my house.
And my bed.
With me in it.
And did I mention how much he stinks? And also that he has tried repeatedly to climb up the chimney?
He's a sneaky one, though. Whenever women who
visit, Minion goes into cute mode. The one where that person is clearly a gift from above whom he must rub against, cuddle, purr at, and generally act towards as though he is never the spawn of basement cat.
Even though he is.
My favorite I'm lying new chore is when I get to clip their claws. SO FUN. Would you like to see my scars?
And after dealing with all this, and making generous use of the spray bottle filled with water, I can only come to one conclusion:
Lord, please help me whenever I do have kids. I'm not sure I'll survive.