cat quandaries

Dear Venom Literati,

I have nothing literary to write about but I do have two current cat quandaries: one is mine, one is Mr. Cake's.

The first one (mine) is the mystery of Mr. Cake's age. Until the other night I thought he was like five, because Garrison has always said very firmly that he is five. The other night we were talking about Mr. Cake's previous owners--there are many, which is why he suffers from serious abandonment issues. He was originally discovered by a woman named Liliana, who was from Columbia. When she finished school, she had to return to Columbia, which is how Gato became Garrison's.

Liliana inherited Gato around the time she first started school, and was in school for four or so years, which would make gato like 7, which is still okay with me. However it was revealed to me the other night that Garrison has no idea how old Gato was when he was discovered by Liliana. He could have been a tiny newborn or he could have been seventeen. There is no documentation of this anywhere, and Liliana is lost in Columbia, so we can never know. So my beautiful kittycat could be anywhere between seven and fifty three years old. This is so disturbing, but also maybe better, but also so sad.

This is Gato's quandary: it involves the new litter we bought him because Garrison liked the demonstration of it that the Petco lady gave us. I thought the lady and her litter were weird, but whatevs, it's called 'World's Best Cat Litter' or something and it is weird and made of corn. Gato doesn't know whether to eat it or crap in it; mostly he just digs around searching for his longlost previous litter. (See: abandonment issue #3,456)

Gato has other quandaries, too, such as which human foods to like and which to dislike. He won't eat any meat that humans eat; he loves butter but not bread, and also loves cucumber dill hummus but not other flavors of hummus. I guess he is a spread man, but he is so particular about them. I had the idea the other night of dousing Beachwood in butter so that they could become best friends instead of hating each other. Once I left a half-eaten granola bar in the windowsill and I am pretty sure he devoured it.

What should I/Mr. Cake do about these quandaries? Literary solutions only, please.

Now Meghan must be entertaining

Meghan commented in one of the previous posts that she refused to be entertaining until seeing more pictures of Beachwood. So blog away, Meghan. Entertain us all! Beachwood will inspire you!

Noises from above...

There are three boys that live in the apartment above mine. I hate them. They are extremely loud at all hours of the day. Either they have completely different schedules and are all equally loud, or they are all meth addicts and do not sleep. Or both.

They move around at 6am and at 3am and most of the time in between. The only thing I can think of that people do that requires them to walk around for hours on end is cleaning. If they are cleaning all day every day, then they are definitely meth addicts. I know this because of an anti-meth commercial that used to be on TV years ago, which of course I found on YouTube because YouTube has everything.

This is what I think they do at various times of the day in their apartment (when they are not cleaning):

- Bowl

- Stand in a squeaky spot and rock back and forth

- Play some sort of elaborate game that requires them to drag large pieces of furniture around the apartment, then pick them up and drop them

- Saw and hammer

- Drum their fingers in surprisingly good rhythm on any piece of furniture that is suitable, or on the floor itself

I fear I may have to become a meth addict myself in order to live in this apartment until June.

Beachwood may have to become a meth addict too, because she is scared of the noises from above. Of course, her energy level is kind of insane, so maybe she’s been sneaking upstairs while I’m at work and getting meth from the boys.

I just hope Beachwood doesn’t start to look like these people. If she starts to get really bad acne or Frankenstein hair, I will know the truth…

This is Beachwood. This is Beachwood on drugs...

So, there was some catnip in the scratch pad that came with Beachwood. I picked up the scratch pad and moved it at some point last night and apparently spilled a significant portion of the catnip on the floor. I didn’t notice, but Beachwood did. She proceeded to roll around and act like a maniac for about 20 minutes. Everything in sight became her enemy and she attacked with ferocity: fingers, hair, toys, blankets, rug, couch, her own tail, her own leg.

Then she went to sleep.

In the past 10 days, Beachwood has been mentioned in 8 posts on this blog. She is taking over. We are becoming people who blog about cats. I will try to limit my blogging about my cat. But she’s just so damn cute…

Yay For Auntie-dom

I am an auntie for the first time ever! This is SO good. Upon moving in with boyfriend and his kitty Mr. Cake, I instantly went from "weird girl who steals my space in the bed" to "mommy" with no buildup to mommydom whatsoever. Of course I also went instantly went into controlling mommy mode, where Gato was not allowed outside by me, and where I became very preoccupied by his grooming (ie: why don't you put on a dress? why don't you fix yourself up, sweetie?), and where, even though people who do this drive me crazy, I can't stop talking about that damn cat wherever I go.

I have never wanted to be a mommy. I have only wanted to be an auntie. A cool auntie. I never really had a cool auntie. I have one weird estranged auntie who always came late for Thanksgiving dinner and then stayed for like half an hour and drove the four hours back home. That one had cool aunt potentail, because she dressed way younger than she was and always talked like she was stoned. Then I have another auntie who is semi-cool and semi-artsy and makes super-greasy, weird tacos and buys Mis and I matching pajamas for Christmas. But I only see her like once a year.

But now that I'm an auntie, I am going to be cool and buy Beachwood special treats and ridiculous toys to spoil her with, and go hang out just to play with her. I'll never have to discipline her at all, and I will be eternally beloved. I can let her take the car out for a spin when she isn't old enough and get her drunk every once in a while, too. Yay for Beachwood, just think how cute she'd look all dressed up in a little racing helmet drunk-driving a red sports car...

Oh, don't worry, Mis, I promise to never buy her outfits.

well hello, mr. cake

reading and prowling

Beachwood and I read the new Tin House in the kitten room last night. We read Stacey Levine’s story, and Beachwood would’ve meowed, but she doesn’t know how to meow yet. We also liked a story by Miranda Mellis,who wrote a book called The Revisionist
that we now want to read.

There were several stories we did not feel like reading, either because they seemed annoying or were written by women who seemed annoying or did not contain enough cats. Suddenly, it was time to fly through the air and practice prowling.

i am a crazy cat lady

beachwood the kitten got vaccinated today and will be returning to my apartment tomorrow to parade her new worm-free cuteness until someone adopts her. Prospective parents and fans can visit beachwood in my yoga room any time.

look what I picked up Saturday night outside the Beachwood

I've really outdone myself this time.