Our Cat Is Making Me Crazy!
Ever wonder what C-A-T stands for?
Completely Accomplished Terrorist!
We moved recently, from a small apartment to a three level townhouse. Bella (the Terrorist) used to have a utility closet that was rigged to allow her easy access, while keeping the dogs out, thus providing her a safe haven, and preventing us from having to deal with the "joy" of "kitty crunchies", those yummy little morsels found only in cat litter boxes, and coveted by dogs everywhere. Nuff said. She slept in "her" closet at night, and all was good.
When we relocated, Bella (the Terrorist) lost her utility closet, but gained a storage room that is hers alone, meaning she no longer has to share her space with the vacuum cleaner, luggage and cleaning supplies. She has two beds, a cat tree, toys, her food, water and treat dished, her litter box....a virtual Shangri-La for felines. Is Bella (the Terrorist) happy with her new digs?
Hell no.
Bella's (the Terrorist) new "room" is at the far end of Christine's office. We decided that we would no longer close and bar her door at night, we would, instead, give her access to the office (and her newest, most favourite cat tree) and just close the office door at night.
Sounded great....in theory. In reality, Bella (the Terrorist) is not interested in staying in her room, with her specially designed cat furniture, her toys, food, and treats. No, Bella (the Terrorist) is much more interested in pushing me to the edge of total insanity.
The Cat (Completely Accomplished Terrorist) can, and does, open the office door, easily and almost faster than I can close it. After making her escape, she comes looking for revenge.
A word to the wise: never piss off a Completely Accomplished Terrorist.
I'm not sure which is worse, the stealth with which she stalks her victim (me) or the self-satisfied little "mmmmph" she emits when she lands, all 28 pounds of Maine Coon massiveness, on my bony shin, as a lay in bed, teetering between wakefulness and sleep. Then the kneading starts, and the licking, the "love nips" and the grande finale, the "let's see if I can suffocate the furless ape by sleeping on her face".
I'm not a cat (Completely Accomplished Terrorist) person, never have been, never pretended to be. Bella (the Terrorist) is a beautiful, albeit frightening creature, and I respect her, mostly out of hope for self-preservation, but I am completely aware of the fact that she regards me as below contempt. I exist to feed her, clean up after her, and provide entertainment for her. The Marquis de Sade would be proud of this feline, since entertainment, to Bella's (the Terrorist) way of thinking, means that someone must end up shrieking and/or bleeding.
The sad fact is that I'm engaged in a battle of wits with a cat (Completely Accomplished Terrorist) and I'm losing.
Ouch.
Completely Accomplished Terrorist!
We moved recently, from a small apartment to a three level townhouse. Bella (the Terrorist) used to have a utility closet that was rigged to allow her easy access, while keeping the dogs out, thus providing her a safe haven, and preventing us from having to deal with the "joy" of "kitty crunchies", those yummy little morsels found only in cat litter boxes, and coveted by dogs everywhere. Nuff said. She slept in "her" closet at night, and all was good.
When we relocated, Bella (the Terrorist) lost her utility closet, but gained a storage room that is hers alone, meaning she no longer has to share her space with the vacuum cleaner, luggage and cleaning supplies. She has two beds, a cat tree, toys, her food, water and treat dished, her litter box....a virtual Shangri-La for felines. Is Bella (the Terrorist) happy with her new digs?
Hell no.
Bella's (the Terrorist) new "room" is at the far end of Christine's office. We decided that we would no longer close and bar her door at night, we would, instead, give her access to the office (and her newest, most favourite cat tree) and just close the office door at night.
Sounded great....in theory. In reality, Bella (the Terrorist) is not interested in staying in her room, with her specially designed cat furniture, her toys, food, and treats. No, Bella (the Terrorist) is much more interested in pushing me to the edge of total insanity.
The Cat (Completely Accomplished Terrorist) can, and does, open the office door, easily and almost faster than I can close it. After making her escape, she comes looking for revenge.
A word to the wise: never piss off a Completely Accomplished Terrorist.
I'm not sure which is worse, the stealth with which she stalks her victim (me) or the self-satisfied little "mmmmph" she emits when she lands, all 28 pounds of Maine Coon massiveness, on my bony shin, as a lay in bed, teetering between wakefulness and sleep. Then the kneading starts, and the licking, the "love nips" and the grande finale, the "let's see if I can suffocate the furless ape by sleeping on her face".
I'm not a cat (Completely Accomplished Terrorist) person, never have been, never pretended to be. Bella (the Terrorist) is a beautiful, albeit frightening creature, and I respect her, mostly out of hope for self-preservation, but I am completely aware of the fact that she regards me as below contempt. I exist to feed her, clean up after her, and provide entertainment for her. The Marquis de Sade would be proud of this feline, since entertainment, to Bella's (the Terrorist) way of thinking, means that someone must end up shrieking and/or bleeding.
The sad fact is that I'm engaged in a battle of wits with a cat (Completely Accomplished Terrorist) and I'm losing.
Ouch.
posted by Alphamutt at 4:28 PM
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