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Well, see... the thing is, it's not how many cats you have. It's about their priority & status in your daily life, like how much time you spend in the cat food isle trying to guess what they're going to like in their bowl, or how uncomfortable you are in bed because you don't want to disturb the little darlings when you need to pee.
You got that right ... Or how many lengthy conversations you strike up with complete strangers at Petsmart, the fact that the cat eats better than I do, or that I have 1,439 photos of my cats on my phone, about 50 of my niece and nephew, and only a half dozen of my mom.
You got that right ... Or how many lengthy conversations you strike up with complete strangers at Petsmart, the fact that the cat eats better than I do, or that I have 1,439 photos of my cats on my phone, about 50 of my niece and nephew, and only a half dozen of my mom.
Yep. All major qualifiers, any one of which will get you the CCL award.
Hah, I am not a CCL. But over the years I’ve moved from being neutral about them to fondly appreciating the stereotypical cat traits. If I were to get another pet of that size, I’d be more likely to look for a cat than a dog even though I used to like dogs better than cats.
Frankly, it may be the bad dog owners that have made part of that change in me. Cat owners don’t make such flaming excuses for really awful behavior.
Well, see... the thing is, it's not how many cats you have. It's about their priority & status in your daily life, like how much time you spend in the cat food isle trying to guess what they're going to like in their bowl, or how uncomfortable you are in bed because you don't want to disturb the little darlings when you need to pee.
Well, see... the thing is, it's not how many cats you have. It's about their priority & status in your daily life, like how much time you spend in the cat food isle trying to guess what they're going to like in their bowl, or how uncomfortable you are in bed because you don't want to disturb the little darlings when you need to pee.
This is me talking to my husband: "Honey, can you get me _____? I'm C.O.L.* right now." Of course he totally gets it (and will get what it is I needed/wanted).
This is me talking to my husband: "Honey, can you get me _____? I'm C.O.L.* right now." Of course he totally gets it (and will get what it is I needed/wanted).
*Cat On Lap
Cat
Growing up, five kids in the house. No remote control or cell phones in those days. If the phone rang, or the channel needed to be changed, or even if it was time for popcorn or other snack, cat on the lap was always an excuse to not have to be the one to get up and do it!
Growing up, five kids in the house. No remote control or cell phones in those days. If the phone rang, or the channel needed to be changed, or even if it was time for popcorn or other snack, cat on the lap was always an excuse to not have to be the one to get up and do it!
I used to feed a couple of strays that would end up living in the woods behind our house when I was a teen, but my mother wouldn't let us have indoor pets except hamsters and goldfish, turtles, etc. Inevitably the day would come when I would see one of "my" cats dead in the road again.
Then I had a kid and my kid wanted a cat when she was five. I told her Daddy was allergic to cats, which he was, and she said, "When Daddy dies, can I get a cat?" Being fed up with Daddy and his goal of becoming an ordained alcoholic/gambler/cokehead by then, I said, "You can have TWO."
But then, a friend of his had a cat who had kittens, and he brought one home for her. The cat was 11 months old when the house we were renting burned down, and he died. I was heartbroken. I'd grown so attached to him.
Fast forward eight years, I was divorced, living with my daughter and a friend who was undergoing cancer treatments and who stayed home and cleaned the house in between her chemo sessions. I came home from work one day, and there were three cats in my house, one of whom was blind. Turned out my brother's girlfriend, who did a lot with TNR in the neighborhood where her flower shop was, had lost her business, and the three cats, all about a year old, that she kept in her shop had nowhere to go. She lived with her parents, and they said NO to cats in the house. My brother had brought them there since our landlord was a vet and asked if they could stay until she found her own place. My daughter and friend said yes.
Shortly after, my daughter called me from the barn where she had her horseback riding lessons with a long sad story about a kitten in the hayloft who was STARVING because its mother had left it up there and the rest of the litter had come down and he was going to DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, and I ended up with four cats in the house.
Well, the short version is that the bro's girlfriend had medical issues and couldn't get her own place and eventually broke up with my brother, my friend moved out after completing her cancer treatments, my daughter went off to college, and I was now a fifty-year-old woman living with four cats. No boyfriend. A stereotype.
So, I packed up my four cats and moved to the Jersey shore, bought a condo, and we all lived together merrily for a few years. Eventually the blind cat died first at the age of 9. The vet had warned me that she likely had other internal congenital issues, and sure enough, her kidneys failed. I kept her going a few months with weekly trips for fluid, but one day she curled up in her little bed and died. Her sister, who had always had digestive issues, died a few years later of IBS. The long-haired part Maine Coon who had thyroid disease apparently developed a brain tumor and had to be put down when she was 14. That left me with my one boy, the skinny, yowling black kitten my daughter had brought home from the barn, who was now a large, yowling black beast.
By then I was in a long-distance relationship with someone who lives 500 miles away. After the second-to-last one died, I would wake in the night when I was away and think of him being alone, even though I had an excellent cat-sitter who visited him twice a day and played with him. So, I brought him to my boyfriend's house, they hit it off to the point where he walks right past me to jump on the bf's lap, and that way my cat was never alone. But I am.
And now...I haven't seen my cat or my boyfriend or his dog since the end of February because of coronavirus. I don't know when I will see him again, and I worry because he is 15 years old, although he seems to be in pretty good shape.
Oh, MQ, if I were in your situation I would be having withdrawal symptoms. At this point in my life I don't think I could "be" without my cats, because they're my only company. I really feel for you and hope you get to see your cat soon - and your BF!
I think what finally doomed me was a girlfriend i had in Vermont who i could only see at her jobs. From 3-5 am it was Humane Society feeding the kitties and cleaning out cages ect. Since then ANYWHERE i go cats in need find me and know i cannot ignore or turn a blind eye. I was homeless so my heart goes out to abandoned/ferals.. honestly these days i prefer the company of kittypeoples to most hoomanpeoples...
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