Kitty Climax: The 8th Day of Giftmas 2009

Kitty Climax: The 8th Day of Giftmas 2009

I’m not a big fan of Drew Carey, but I’m not going to leave my cat unspayed just to spite him. So I scheduled Poe’s little kitty surgery for this Wednesday. Unfortunately, due to a poor miscalculation based on data I just kinda made up, my cat went into heat a month before I figured she would. So now I have a poor horny kitty struggling through her transformation into adolescence as I type. And if you’ve never seen a cat in heat, it’s unbearable both for her and her owners. It’s like she’s on ecstasy. She rolls around on the rug and the bathmat and rubs her head on everything she walks by – the table leg, the TV stand, the sharp corner of a bike pedal. Everything just feels sooooo gooood. And she walks around sticking her ass up in the air looking around for boy kitties to come up behind her. She’s scratching at our cabinets looking for them too. And she meows all the time, calling out to these boy kitties to come beat down the door and satisfy her newly discovered womanly needs.

I’ve been telling people she went into heat already and about 37 people said “Yeah, I know how she feels, heh heh.” No you don’t. And if you were thinking that same thought as I was typing, you can either feel bad that you’re as predictable as everyone else, or you can be excited you’re just like everyone else, depending on your own self-worth. Also, some people tried to compare it to when dogs go into heat. Though I appreciate you trying to sympathize, you can stop. Dogs in heat and cats in heat is as different as getting out-of-a-bad-relationship horny and getting-out-of-a-20-year-prison-sentence horny. Now you show me a dog in heat who just spent a hair shy of 3 years in jail, and I’ll give you that one.

The last cat I had in Ohio was in a really bad way, as they say. Like a life-sentence-with-no-conjugal-visits bad way. She was to the point where if she didn’t get her kitty surgery soon, she was going to die. Not because of that, but because Seth was going to kill her. But really, it was incredibly annoying. It was to the point where I was about to take care of it myself just to shut her up. Kill two birds with one stone if you know what I’m sayin. You don’t have to tell me. I know how wrong that is. But really, I was thinking about going out to find a boy kitty for her, but I’m not that generous of a wing man. If anybody was getting pussy in that house, it was going to be me. Relax, that one wasn’t as bad.

So I dropped Poe off at the Kitty Hospital today and I am picking her up tomorrow. And I caught a stroke of luck. On the way there, Poe was stuck in the kitty carrier. She hates the kitty carrier. After about 20 minutes of meowing and trying to dig out of the plastic bottom of the carrier, she went to work at the metal gate. Like a crack addict trying to get to her crack. Her claws were flying off her paws like a tree-shredder. That horrifying experience was apparently enough to snap her out of heat. I guess if you were thrown into a cage that you could barely turn around in and thrown in a van for an hour, you’d probably forget how horny you were too. Even after a 20-year jail sentence. So the surgery went fine and I am going to pick her up tomorrow. Looks like I don’t have to have that father/daughter talk after all. Maybe a different one. About how I took out her uterus just when she finally wanted to use it.

Death by Kitten: The 4th Day of Giftmas 2009

Death by Kitten: The 4th Day of Giftmas 2009

This is an actual sentence I said last week.

“Hey Keith, my kitten ate Jen’s roses and puked all over your invitation. Could you give me directions to your baby shower again?”

I’m going to table the fact that I attended a coed baby shower for a little while so I can introduce you to the reason I show up to work with scratches all over my forearms and face. That would be Poe, the little kitten that I decided to plague our perfect happy home with. She’s apparently a “Russian Blue” breed, which is odd since she’s completely grey. And her eyes are yellow. And she’s from Jessup.

So I’m not necessarily a cat person at all. Which is another way of saying I’m straight. And yet, some impulse I had made the decision to add another cat to our 11th floor apartment.

Oh yeah. We already have another cat. Oh, and I moved in with Jen. There. Now you’re caught up.

So the main problem isn’t with the kitten, but it’s with her interaction with the 22-pound beast which Jen keeps trying to convince me is a cat. See, Poe likes to play and Sweetie (fat cat) is old and prefers to lay there and be left alone. Well, anytime Sweetie gets up to go anywhere, Poe will run behind her, jumping and swatting at her tail the entire way like it was a toy. As you can imagine, this pisses off the big cat. Especially when trying to use the litter box. As soon as Poe hears the scratching of the litter, she goes running after her. So what this caused is that now, Sweetie feels so much anxiety over going to the litter box, she will more often than not, shit on the wood floor. This does not make me happy. But think about it. If every time you went to the bathroom to crap, your little sister would hit you in the ass, wouldn’t you just do it wherever the heck you were at the time?

Anyway, an unfortunate side effect to this is that dried poop seems to be the most fun toy in the world to the kitten, provided there’s no chapstick available. So occasionally, we’ll move the couch to find a few pieces of dried, hardened Sweetie poop. It’s a sad life to have accepted for the three of us that aren’t Poe. I wish whatever part of me said “I’m not a cat guy” had spoken up louder back in April.

Fraidy-Cat

Fraidy-Cat

I don't think I told you guys this as a big collective group yet, but we now have a kitten. My roommate's girlfriend's parents decided it was a good idea to burden me with wildlife at this point in my life. This thing is wild too! It's traditionally really good about not clawing people's skin, but if it tries to jump up on your leg and starts to fall, it's no holds barred. Every cat for themselves. It's fallen from the height of my leg many times before, I don't know what it's scared of. Hell, I've thrown it at least 10 feet in the air across the room against the wall before and it didn't even limp. Hell, it didn't even move. And it did, even after impact, land on its feet. You know, they say that cats always land on their feet when they fall or when you throw them. Well, I figured out that so do dogs. And gerbils. And fish. It's just that we see cats land on their feet more often because it is necessary to throw cats around, whereas dogs, gerbils, and fish will listen to you. All you have to do is hit the dog once and say "NO!!" real loud and he'll get the idea from then on not to do whatever it was he did. He also learns what the word "no" means really fast. Not cats. He needs to jump on my lap to try to help eat my cereal, and he still does it every freakin day. And everyday, I punt him across the room into the wall. Damn thing doesn't learn. I'll bet modern psychology would turn 180 degrees if Pavlov had cats instead. People say dogs are dumb, but this kitten refuses to learn this stuff, despite it's many flights across the dining room against her will. And it comes right back for more. This dude has no fear. I don't know why there are so many terms associated with cats being scared. Fraidy-cat... Scaredy-cat... Pussy.

I'm going back to Spring Break for this quote that I almost forgot about. I almost got my ass kicked in Jacksonville for freaking some girl that was apparently already taken. I told Meawad I couldn't see. I was just happy to not be freaking a guy. Anyway, I went out there with Meawad, and I told Tony that he needed to start coming into the fire with us more often. There was a girl checking him out and I told him a good icebreaker is asking her to dance with him (this was before I used that same technique to almost get my ass kicked)...

Quote of the Day 4/29/99

"It sounds like a good idea, but I can't dance. I might as well go up and ask her to knit or something, because I can't do that either."

-Monotone-Def


"Hey baby. Howz about you and me go back to my place and I show you the antitrust & regulation of my macroeconomics, if you know what I mean." If that's the kind of stuff I was good at, I'd risk looking like a fool by gyrating randomly around the wood floor. Or shoving random needles into cotton.

"Playing" with the kitten,

Dustin.


Still Standing Right Here...