But They're Cousins, Identical Cousins All the Way
The ingénue-cats have earned a new nickname; they are the causins. Yes, I can spell; I’m still pretty certain they were littermates. They are the causins because there is no better answer for anything they do besides “Cause."
Why is Diana eating the side of the bed? Cause.
Why did Anne spend fifteen minutes wedging herself between a closed window and the window-screen, which sent her into a claustrophobic panic requiring two adults and ten minutes to disengage her? Cause.
Why did Diana jump up and down in an empty corner for a while this morning and then rush into Daughter’s room, grab a sock and trot around with it for a while? Cause.
Why did one of them eat a Band-Aid and then discover Band-Aids aren’t food? And why did the cat learn this on my only suede purse? You guessed it; cause.
Lupac came to us as an adult cat. Had she been human, she would have been a humorless workaholic, her rare non-work hours spent flipping through the feline trade magazines like Killing Small Things Monthly and Professional Dog Sneerer. Her fun—the fun of playing with things until they exsanguinated -- was the feline version of single-malt Scotch, a totally adult kind of fun.
I had forgotten that before they are adults and sit dozing in the sun dreaming of a chewy mouse liver, they are half-grown cats. Anne and Diana march to the beat of their own drummer, only it’s less a march than a dash and it’s not so much a drum as a kazoo. And because they are indoor cats and will remain so forever, I am haunted by the premonition that they will be doing inexplicable things for years. I can put Bitter Apple on the bedposts to keep them from chewing, but that just means they'll take a can of black olives from the cabinet and sneeze on it.
But they are attractive and sweet and I forgive them for being young and exuberant; they are my trophy wives, endlessly off to change their hair color or get to yoga class or shove all their toys under the bureau and I am their sugar-daddy, fondly admiring their good looks and taking whatever chances I get to rest when they aren’t around.
Why is Diana eating the side of the bed? Cause.
Why did Anne spend fifteen minutes wedging herself between a closed window and the window-screen, which sent her into a claustrophobic panic requiring two adults and ten minutes to disengage her? Cause.
Why did Diana jump up and down in an empty corner for a while this morning and then rush into Daughter’s room, grab a sock and trot around with it for a while? Cause.
Why did one of them eat a Band-Aid and then discover Band-Aids aren’t food? And why did the cat learn this on my only suede purse? You guessed it; cause.
Lupac came to us as an adult cat. Had she been human, she would have been a humorless workaholic, her rare non-work hours spent flipping through the feline trade magazines like Killing Small Things Monthly and Professional Dog Sneerer. Her fun—the fun of playing with things until they exsanguinated -- was the feline version of single-malt Scotch, a totally adult kind of fun.
I had forgotten that before they are adults and sit dozing in the sun dreaming of a chewy mouse liver, they are half-grown cats. Anne and Diana march to the beat of their own drummer, only it’s less a march than a dash and it’s not so much a drum as a kazoo. And because they are indoor cats and will remain so forever, I am haunted by the premonition that they will be doing inexplicable things for years. I can put Bitter Apple on the bedposts to keep them from chewing, but that just means they'll take a can of black olives from the cabinet and sneeze on it.
But they are attractive and sweet and I forgive them for being young and exuberant; they are my trophy wives, endlessly off to change their hair color or get to yoga class or shove all their toys under the bureau and I am their sugar-daddy, fondly admiring their good looks and taking whatever chances I get to rest when they aren’t around.
posted by Unknown at 11:50 AM
6 Comments:
Hee. I loved this. I have a "causin" cat, too. She's 11 months old and who knows what motivates her to climb on a pile of boxesso she can vomit down them? Or work her way between the curtain and the curtain lining and then sit there for an hour? Or get into a boxing match with a pair of rolled-up gloves? She's indoor-only too, and I keep thinking I should maybe make her some kind of indoor activity centre so she doesn't get bored. Now I realise she already has an indoor activity centre: the house.
Cats as trophy wives had me rolling on the floor because it is 200% true! I have one that lounges around all day going "Adore me, adore me, adore me-oooooh! I want that! Gimme!" (She also has the trophy wife's attraction to shiny things. Nothing small and sparkly is safe). Come to think of it, she likes to stay up late and party all night. She may be a college student trophy wife.
I read this aloud to the two cats who constantly hover over me while I'm on the computer. They were mildly amused. In cat-ese, that means they were ROTFLTAO or something like that. Raucous with meowing.
As if you need another project, I suggest you submit this to Cat Fancy magazine so that all those other feline freaks can enjoy this as much as I did.
Full disclosure: I do not work for Cat Fancy nor am I related to them in any way. My airline miles were about to expire and Delta pointed a gun at me and said I had to "purchase" 14k miles worth of magazine subscriptions I'll never read. Cat Fancy was at the top of the list.
If it makes you feel any better, my cat, Gus, chews on metal...like, all the time. He follows me into the bathroom when I'm getting ready in the morning so that he can lean off of the toilet and gnaw on edge of the toilet-paper-roll-holder-thing. He also sits between the shower curtain and the shower curtain liner when you're showering and YOOOOOWLS the entire time...
He's been a nut-case since I got him and I kept telling myself that he'd grow out of it and mellow out eventually...he's 4 now, so it should be any day...right??
Loved this. I like the idea above of having it published in Cat Fancy. :-)
The only cat I've ever had was one I rescued and fostered, until I found him a real home where he remains so happy. He was also an adult, so I missed out on what seems like the really adorable cat adolescence. By the way, I have to say it again. I love their names. ;-)
BTW, while I don't get all the lyrics, this one I knew right away. I shall be hearing the Patty Duke theme in my head all day. I loved that show growing up. Now Nick at Nite is playing shows from the 80s and 90s and making me feel old.
God, I loved this! Just found your blog, sorry I'm a little late (I am, after all...a man).
Anyway, really loved this post. As a dad of two furry bitches, I can absolutely relate!
Apparently, you've been blogging since 2004, it looks like I have a lot of catchin' up to do!
See ya later!
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