Look at my cat, Tabitha:
Isn’t she cute? Doesn’t she look sweet?
Yeah, not so much.
This cat is the devil I tell you, the devil!
Tabitha: Come near me and I’ll bite you. I may be small, but I have very sharp teeth.
I know that it’s going to snow at some point soon, because my cat has gone insane. More insane than usual. That’s really saying something. She does this every time it snows. It never ceases to amuse me. No, wait. It never ceases to piss me off.
At about 5 this morning, she decided that it would be a really good idea to train for the 2008 Cat Olympics. I believe that she intends to enter herself into the biathalon, which consists of laps around the apartment alternated with segments of knocking everything that I own onto the floor. She gets extra points for causing me to sit upright and curse her name but loses time every time she pisses me off to the point where I drop kick her across the room.* So far, I would say that she’s looking like a favorite to end up on the podium. She might also considering going for the gold in the long jump, but only if they’ll replace the sandbox at the end with my head, her favorite target.
I tried everything I could think of to get her to leave me alone, but I was fairly unsuccessful. Let’s just say that neither of us got a whole lot of sleep last night, but only one of us chose to stay awake. Tabitha: 1, Hope: 0. Note to the cat… you get to stay home and sleep all day while I go to work to earn your room and board. I suggest that you start training during the day when I’m not home. Otherwise I’m going to start buying you the ashiest of ashy cat food.
“But Hope,” you are probably thinking, “Hope you are incredibly smart, talented and good-looking. But in your sleep deprived state, you must have lost some of your common sense. Why not just lock the cat out of the room if she insists on jumping on your head and knocking all of your stuff onto the floor?”
Oh, my dear, dear readers. You know so much about how smart, talented and good-looking I am. But, I’m sorry to say it, but you know nothing about the depths of depravity to which my cat sinks when there is snow in the air.
My cat may feel the need to divide her time between me and every single surface on the apartment that can be jumped on… but she had better have easy access to jumping on my head or there will be hell to pay. You can close the bedroom door, but she’s just going to start throwing herself at it. You’ll have about 37 seconds of silence while her tiny little cat brain comes to grips with the fact that “hey. that door is closed. my mom’s head is on the other side of that door. if I want to jump on that head, then I have to … [wait for it]… get through that door!” (I didn’t capitalize the previous sentence, because cats are notoriously bad at grammar)
Once it sinks in that the door is closed and that she must, must must get through it… Well, then it’s time to start throwing her weight against it. And scratch on it. So you get this scary scratch-scratch-thump, scratch-scratch-thump noise thing going on. Sounds like the evil aliens are on the other side and are about to bust right in. I saw that movie. It didn’t end well for my character. Besides, she always manages to get the door open.
So, here I am, bleary-eyed and tired. The cat wins, for now.
*Note, I would never kick my cat. Chuck her underhand at the door? Yes. Kick her? No.
