As part of trying to maintain some semblance of being amicable with The Wife, and since I’m still living there, I continue to help around the house. This includes taking my share in the care of the cats I introduced last post. Occasional feeding, litter box cleaning, brushing,… and the annual excursion, which occured yesterday, where we get them to the veterinarian for their shots. This is otherwise known as “GnuKid’s Kitty Smack Down”.
When it is time to take them, we have to put them in separate cat carriers, otherwise they may mutilate each other… aw, hell, who am I kidding… it’s more likely that The Twit will piss all over as he usually does, and we don’t want to have to clean up two cats.
Putting them in the carriers is the ‘fun’ part of this adventure. It starts the night before where the house must be put on lock-down… doors are closed to prevent escape and limit hiding places. The cat box is moved for the same reason. Unfortunately, this also alerts the cats that something is up and it likely won’t be fun for them. When it’s time to actually lock them into their little kitty cells, the chase is on.
The Diva plays the martyr of the two. It’s usually fairly easy to get her. She surrenders quickly and sort of flattens out against the carpet… is she hoping I won’t see a flat cat? Or is it that she thinks if she gets her center of gravity low enough, I won’t be able to move her? But, she goes, grudgingly, into her carrier and sits there looking pitiful and very hurt at the indignation I’ve visited on her.
The Twit is the challenging one. The key is to try to keep him clueless as long as possible. Given his natural proclivity for cluelessness, you’d think that’d be easy. But, history has taught me that he will fight, so I have to get a towel to protect my arms from the multiple daggers of his claws. As soon as he sees the towel, all hell breaks loose. He immediately starts yowling, as if he’s calling some kind of Kitty 911 hoping that the Cat Defense League will leap into action and come save him from my heinous attempts to confine him. He also starts dodging and weaving, with moves that would befuddle the best defenseman in your sport of choice. My response is to progressively limit his escape routes until his only way out is through me… thus the many scars on my arms as he is more than happy to attempt said escape. The Twit’s yowling continues, loud and strong, even after capture, on the drive to the vets, in the vets office, and the return home.
Hmmm… I think I’ve decided who’s getting the cats in the Divorce…
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*Yeah, the title is descriptive of the content of the post itself, but I’m also curious to see how many Google Search hits I get randomly from this title…
Tags: cats, insane maniacal cat alarm, pets, pussies boxed up, The Diva, The Twit
The Wilds of Ohio 
September 22, 2008 at 00:00 |
Yeah, I’d love to see the Google searches, too. I get a lot of searches for “Friday boobs” for some reason. And I know which cat I’d leave with the wife. Or both. My ex made it easy, getting rid of the animals before he moved out. Otherwise there would have been a custody battle. But I wasn’t taking that dog, no matter what he said.
September 22, 2008 at 05:10 |
since this divorce may get nasty, perhaps you should first behave as if you WANT the cats and then later make a gigantic concession and allow her to keep them because bascially you’re such a nice guy 🙂
September 22, 2008 at 07:12 |
the horror, THE HORROR… i mean for you, of course, not the kitties. they’ll be fine. with dogs, it’s a little easier. you can drag them in on a leash while they put on the doggie brakes. Mr. P the Wonder Dog also makes it a point to dribble piss all over the vet’s waiting room. Hey, everyone needs a hobby, right?
September 22, 2008 at 08:30 |
Can I just say, I love the way your write because I can totally see the cats doing the antics.
September 22, 2008 at 09:46 |
If the Twit lived at my house, his hide would have long been lining the insides of my gloves.
I have no patience for drama, human or animal.
September 22, 2008 at 11:16 |
Our cat lives in the wild which is a good thing for him.
September 22, 2008 at 11:44 |
silverstar – it is difficult. i do like both of them. but i’d really like a clean start in a new place.
nursemyra – but i AM a good guy already. [grin] i made that concession to her long ago. offered to take them, but when she balked, let her have them. i was hoping we still could settle then… oh well.
daisyfae – i can think of better hobbies. but i do like this concept of “take the pet for a drag”. i’m thinking there’s a lot of resistance training on the muscles that way.. for both of you.
stephanie – awww, thank you. that was one of the nicest things i’ve heard here. writer’s self esteem issues and all… [shrug]
rob – laughin’… you have an excellent point. i would think i’d have to show the gloves to the other cats occasionally to keep them in line…
annie – from what rob just said, amen to that.
September 22, 2008 at 11:51 |
Gnu, if you don’t want those cats, I know of three…wonderfully sweet, docile and in no way capable of destroying everything in their paths…cats that you can adopt.
🙂
September 22, 2008 at 21:43 |
leavingevangeline – why am i hearing warning sirens in my head?
September 22, 2008 at 22:27 |
I’m sorry, I can’t hear any sirens over the screeching and howling of my darling kitties.
September 22, 2008 at 23:50 |
Poor, poor, Kittehs. They need someone to love them and gently coax them into the carriers.
But they wouldn’t get much gentleness from me. I haven’t the patience.
September 23, 2008 at 07:23 |
leavingevangeline – [smirk] … knew it…
kym – does using a plunger, knife, and baseball bat count as a “gently coax”? ooo, thought not…