Posted by: tlboehm | December 8, 2009

Not a Cat person

It’s gray. It’s furry. It’s on its last life. So many reasons I’m not a cat person, preferring just about any drooling hound to a feline, rump licking, hairball but the capstone would be the the scented offering left twice in the past week upon my couch. Yes. Tastefully wrapped in part of my fuzzy unicorn throw. Three guesses as to what it was and I can tell you twas neither a pair of new bunny slippers or a plate of nachos. Nope. The little ingrate dropped a dunghenge on my sofa! At least a dog will learn if you apply enough force to its hide after an excremental indiscretion. I’ve seen dogs ingest their own tails rather than let a fidobiscuit go on a carpet after a round of “bad dog” and a finger wagging but a cat? fuggedaboudit. Sasha has purposely stashed a load of fully disgested meow mix specifically fermented to a high stench for deposit in a shoe and on a pillow in the same day. She knows what she’s doing. And no amount of tossing her out on her slightly ringed tail seems to make a dent in her foul, poop leavin’ disposition. It’s bad enough that I must spend precious creative time in the a.m. hauling ornery spawn to institutions of free education, followed up by a day of guerrilla warfare at the office…no. Sandwiched between slamming a pbandj together and finding a matching shoe – I must deal with “kitteh” offerings. lolcat THIS you mousesucking furball!

And so another day down the toilet with notsomuch as a line of dialogue on the new story. It was all I could manage not to burst into great doggy tears several times at the office. I’m 44, not 12…lather, rinse, repeat. I keep hoping that the constant threat of spontaneous combustion will abate but we go from crisis, to emergency to chaos, and me running paper triage as fast as I can. I hate to whine, but I’m tired. Just plain tired.  Cat poop on the couch was actually the highlight of my day. What a shame.



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