Friday, August 6, 2010

i love you, BUT...

i love my cats. they're all so different and special and wonderful. MOST OF THE TIME. piglet is just weird, with her aversions to food and cuddling. and samantha... well, we didn't call her 'little baby retard' for nothing. the whole not-being-able-to-smell thing makes life interesting. and taylor is basically my fur brother. he's been around for half of my life, and i love him to bits.


now that he's older, mostly deaf, and in kidney failure, he seems to have developed some old man habits. like the yowling. i feel like i've written this blog already.

oh wait - i have. he does this almost every. fucking. night.

let's go through taylor's day.

6am ish: the sun is just barely starting to lighten the sky. mom troops out of her bedroom to shove taylor outside. he stalks around the perimeter of the patio, surveying the landscape, and shouts a bit at the cats across they way if they are out. by the time i wake up and open the blinds around 8ish, he's curled up on one of 'his' chairs, soaking up the sun (in the 83 degree heat. i don't know how he does it).

9am: the other cats may want to go out. usually samantha. if taylor is over by the table, she'll stop to say hi. they may swat at each other a couple of times, then go to sleep. taylor may or may not have moved over to lie on top of our patio table. it has a glass top and appears to be cooler. *shrug* or something. he may clean at this time.

10:15am: taylor wants a snack. he does cat stretching and then sits on the very edge of the table, and peers through the patio door waiting for someone to look at him. the second you do, he meows with his rumbly, purry meow. and does it over and over again until you get him.

NOT until you open the door. but until you actually go outside and CARRY him into the house. i'm not fucking kidding. then you have to walk WITH him down the hallway to the kitchen, where his food dish is. he may at this time go to the litter box like a good boy. then he wants to go back out.

he'll either lie on the ceramic tiles or on the fucking table until 4pm ish. he may require another trip to the litter box around 3pm, but this is not a normal occurrence. but 4pm ish is when all three cats decide it's close enough to dinner time to start making a nuisance of themselves. they yowl, they fight, they pick at the upholstery. samantha will sit in front of mom's bedroom door while mom's working and give these pitiful, LOUD yowly cries. nice.

5pm ish: this is generally when they eat. if you feed taylor inside, he will immediately vomit his dinner up. so we feed him outside, where for some reason, he only vomits up his dinner about 15% of the time. then he goes back to his cycle of cleaning and sleeping.

6pm-8:30pm: he does sleep most of this time. but he will also go back to sitting on the edge of the table, peering in at us. he can see the couch, and that's where awesome husband and i sit most of the night. the second we make eye contact, he starts shouting at us. if you open the door, he looks at you like you have six heads. very rarely, he will jump down to meet you, and either will just say hi and rub on you, or come in for another snack or surprise trip to the litter box.

10:45pm ish: we bring taylor in. he has a snack. he sits on a bed for like four minutes, and then goes and yowls by the door to be let back out. we bring him back to bed. you must lie down with him until his ass hits the bed and he starts cleaning before you can trust him to stay there.

11:50pm-12:15am: this is when he will make his first nightly bid for freedom. taylor will go push his head through the closed vertical blinds, shouting and yelling to go out. i usually grab him and either shove him in mom's room, or bring him to our bed.

2am ish: escape attempt two. this lasts much longer, since we're all usually deeply asleep by now. either myself or mom will be slowly roused from sleep by the incessant, throaty, loud, annoying yowl of taylor as he shuffles the vertical blinds around. whoever gets up first will bring him to bed.

3:15am ish: attempt three. i usually get up for this one. i bring him to bed with me, where he will not settle down but runs off to the patio doors again, yowling. so i grab him, snuggle him up next to awesome husband, and awesome husband will initiate cuddling with taylor *without waking up*. i go back to sleep.

4am: attempt four. mom or awesome husband usually gets this one. whoever gets him brings him back to bed.

5-5:30 am: attempt five. taylor will yowl especially loud at this time, perhaps because he realizes it is close to the time when mom will lose her fucking rag and finally shove him outside. i generally take this one, and force-cuddle him while watching home movies on adult swim.

6am ish: taylor runs off for the sixth and final attempt, which is not so much an 'attempt' as it is 'annoy the living fuck out of mom so she stumbles out of bed in her nighty and opens the patio door, cursing quietly the entire way'. this escape has been known to rouse awesome husband, which pisses him off since he usually wakes up around 7am, and you know how hard it is to get back to sleep during that last hour of sleepytime.

taylor was at it all. night. long last night. i must have gotten up five times to drag him back to bed and try to settle him off to boboland. i cursed him all night long, every time i woke up and grabbed him. i kept explaining to him that you can't go outside in the middle of the fucking night, because people might try to steal him (i know, i know. i live in perpetual fear of someone catnapping my kittehs). or because we can't let him in and out to use the box.

taylor just doesn't listen. i wonder if there are sleeping pills for cats? or if we keep waking him up all day long, if he'll sleep more through the night?

this is why i don't have kids: i have kittehs.

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