I used to change the blog's tagline periodically, every time I thought of something funnier (to me) than what was up there. But for a long time now, it's been "Like a crazy cat lady, minus the cats."
Well.
Funny story about that.
I have five cats now.
It is all James's fault,
of course, because until we got married and he moved in, I did not have any cats. Of course, he only brought the one cat with him; the remaining four were kind of a joint effort but really mostly my fault.
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| Seriously, Hobbes is adorable. Wanna rub his belly? |
But let me start at the beginning. When James was living in his bachelor pad, he shared the house with his landlord's cat, while the landlord was in Texas. Sunshine (also called Gurndy, for reasons unknown), was a big bad orange lady, a mostly outdoor cat, and at sixteen years old, definitely the Grand Dame of the neighborhood. When the landlord returned to bring her back to Texas with him, James decided, hey, he really liked having a cat. So in February, we went to the animal shelter and returned with an eight-month-old orange tabby. His "pound name" was Kevin, but James immediately renamed him Hobbes. He is not a Kevin, but he is
such a Hobbes.
So in May, we got married and Hobbes and James moved in. I have always been a dog person, but I like Hobbes. He is a playful, charming cat who loves belly rubs, playing with twist ties, and napping. He's also adorable. If all cats are like Hobbes, then yes, I love cats.
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| Yes, she has perma-bitchface, but she's a great cuddler. |
So when one of my co-workers sent around a picture of a sweet gray-and-white kitty she found in her alley, we (but mostly me) decided that a second cat was the
best idea ever. Hobbes could have a playmate while we were at work. One cat was easy, so two cats would be easy too, right?
Of course right!
So we adopted the gray-and-white lady, named her Zoe, and immediately found out that while Hobbes loves her, she hates Hobbes.
Hates. Awesome. So we worked on keeping them segregated and introducing them slowly (no small feat in a one-bedroom apartment!) and prayed for better days ahead.
Then we realized that Zoe was pregnant.* What the shit. We did a little denial dance for awhile, but when you're petting a cat and you can feel the kittens
moving around inside her, it's hard to stay in denial. We weighed the options (keep the kittens? pregnant spay? keep the kittens? pregnant spay?), but before we reached a really final decision, she trumped us all and gave birth on everyone's favorite living room chair.
Of course she did. She's a
cat.
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| OMG. OMG. OMG. OMG. OMG. |
Have you ever seen teeny-tiny day old kittens? They are MIND-BLOWING with their cuteness. They fit in the palm of your hand! They look more like guinea pigs than cats, and since they're not very mobile yet and they can't quite meow, they mostly just wriggle around and squeak, and you guys, there are not words in any language for how cute they are.
So... two adult cats + three kittens = full-on, undeniable crazy cat lady status.
The kittens are now seven weeks old, still MIND-BLOWING with their cuteness, and, alas, soon to be dispatched to their new homes. They romp and play, still aren't quite big enough to make real meows, and they drive Zoe crazy. Every so often she'll look at me all wide-eyed, like "Can't you
do something about this?" Mama, if you can't, then I definitely can't.
She still doesn't get along with Hobbes, and we're still not sure what we're going to do about that. Once the kittens are gone, that might help. Once she's spayed, that might help. Or...maybe she'll just keep on keepin' on, and hate him forever. Maybe we'll find her a nice place where she can be the only cat, and keep the third kitten to be friends with Hobbes? I don't know.
But there it is: I am a crazy cat lady. Full stop. Life's weird.
Singing along to: The Weepies,
Be My Thrill