I’ve made no secret of the fact that despite my best intentions, I’m not a cat person but still own a cat because I don’t always make good decisions.
But my hairy little roommate is stuck with me (and vice versa) until we put her cold dead body in a sweater and bury her in the backyard (not vice versa, as I can’t see her using a shovel with any degree of dexterity.)
And while she might be cute and sweet and blah, blah, blah, she’s also not pulling her weight. The other day she spent 10 minutes watching me try and capture a freaking fly before rolling her eyes, opening up the slider and simply shooing it out.
This is what I have to live with.
I guess I really can’t blame her. Her days are spent lounging in luxury without a care in the world — or at least that’s how it would seem.
A Day In the Life
Wait outside bedroom door for human to rise. Marvel that she survives on less than 22 hours of sleep.
Trip her going down the stairs. (Pro tip: Be careful. It doesn’t do any good to trip them if they fall on top of you. Food will be delayed.)
Act like I haven’t had food in three days, sniff bowl, walk away.
While she showers, find the one thing she doesn’t want me to lie on and lie on it until she’s done.
Trip her going up the stairs.
THE NOISE! THE NOISE! SHE’S USING THE HAIRDRYER AGAIN! MUST SEEK SHELTER!
Trip her going down the stairs.
Once she’s at work, lie on the bed that I’m not supposed to go on.
Somehow find a way to eat straw from the fake tree even though she’s attempted to stop this by covering it with a towel and packing tape. It’s like she doesn’t want me to have any fun.
Puke up straw from the fake tree. Shrug. Sleep. Repeat.
SHE’S HOME! SHE’S HOME!
In moment of weakness, allow myself to be picked up for 2.5 seconds. Feel cheap. Run away.
Pretend to like new toy filled with catnip for 1.3 seconds before playing with a piece of rice that was dropped on the floor.
Strategically place death toy in anticipated path of human so she steps on it, letting out all of the catnip and colorful language.
Watch her clean out my shit box. Gaze at her in a way that implies, “More enthusiasm, and with a smile. You missed a spot.”
OH MY GOD THE VACUUM IS ON AND IT’S LIKE SHE’S TRYING TO SUCK OUT MY SOUL!!!
Where are my drugs? Must find my drugs!!!
Feel catnip buzz wear off and crave treats. Roll on back and implement “teats for treats” campaign in front of treat stash until she caves.
Sucker.
Run from sun room to the kitchen 74 times for no apparent reason.
Wait until she’s settled on the couch before staring into empty fireplace in a way that convinces her there are ghosts taking up residence.
ALERT! ALERT! THERE’S THE RED LASER LIGHT AGAIN! MAYBE THERE ARE REALLY GHOSTS!
Try like hell to catch the red dot for 4 seconds before resuming the staring contest with my reflection in the glass fireplace doors.
I am beautiful. Another clear indication that this woman is not my real mother.
Wait until she’s ready to go to bed and resume my wind sprints throughout the house.
Go find that bowl full of food. I need to make sure she feels useful. Plus, I need energy to do it all over tomorrow.
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