The cat’s meow: Part I

It’s good to be queen.

I got a cat 8 years ago because cats are not a lot of work. You basically keep the food and water bowl full and the litter box clean and you’re good to go.

But over the last few weeks, my cat has been a lot of work. Like so much work she has made up for the 8 years I practically did nothing to keep her alive.

This is what I’ve had to do: (1) Take her to the vet. (2) Give her medicine.

This might not seem like a big deal, but I believe doing these two things have shaved three years off of my life. Over the next two posts, I will share what it’s been like for me. And just because I can, I’m going to tell you all about it from the perspective of my cat.

Part 1: Visit to the vet

Yawn. Man, that was a good 23-hour nap. I’ll just take my 10-minute nap break, shed three pounds of fur all over this bed and settle back down to sleep. But wait. What was that? Oh, it’s just female master walking through the bedroom. Whatev. Not acknowledging her existence today.

Wait just ONE sec. Why did she close the bedroom door?!? Something is up. DANGER. I must leap off the bed and look for an escape. I need to get down low, way low, to the ground. Miraculously my brown coat will blend in with the light beige carpet so she won’t notice me. Oh no. OH NO! I’m sealed in! No escape!

I see something near the closed door. Is that—I vaguely recall—no, it couldn’t be. OMG!! It’s the cat carrier! It’s officially time to LOSE MY SH*T! PANIC! RUN AROUND! Fake seizures when she tries to pick me up!

Oh! Oh! The bed! Of course! Race underneath the bed. She’ll never get me under here. Ha ha! I hear her swearing! This is awesome. Did I just hear a bell because you got SCHOOLED, female master!

(Relaxes for three minutes)

Dude, what WAS that? Is that a broom handle poking around near me?!? Let me just scoot my way, ever so slowly, to the other side. You’ll never get me—WHAT?!? Male master? Where the hell did YOU come from?!? No—not in the carrier—any place but the carrier!

And now—where am I? What is this world that is not my house? I’m travelling beyond the bounds of the known universe. And now we’re moving somehow? This is craziness. I am not happy. I am very not happy. I will show female master that I am very not happy by meowing loudly and not stopping.

Oh look, we stopped moving. No matter. I will continue to meow loudly. Don’t think I’m going to stop just because we’re in some room with other humans in it. I vow here and now to humiliate and annoy you, dastardly female master.

And now we’re moving again. Into a tiny room. The cage door—it’s opening! It’s opening! It’s—have you lost your Vulcan mind?!? I’m not going out there! There’s some lady wearing scrubs with cartoon dogs on them, waiting to snatch me away and probably kill me. I refuse to leave this carrier. Ahh! The world is tipping! They’re dumping me out! No! NO! Everything’s—fading—dizzy—what a world, what a world… [I assume the cat creates a mental block at this point to protect herself from descending into madness]

Fun time, no?

  1. Alex

    July 19th, 2012 at 12:26 am

    Wait, our cat can talk!? And type?! You should have taken a picture of that, it would be freakin’ awesome.

    Did she wear her reporter’s hat while typing?

  2. Breaking up is hard to do – Meredith Towbin

    September 3rd, 2012 at 7:34 am

    […] 3. Isolation: “You may replay the relationship over and over in your mind, trying to pinpoint where it fell apart and how it could have been saved.” Day after day, I asked myself, what could I have done differently? Added more pictures? Not write that post in the voice of my cat? […]

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