5 posts tagged “kitty”
Valentine's Day has come and gone, and I never got around to telling my little Voxies how much I *heart* them:
(from I Can Haz Cheezburger?, the best site ever)
After some very scientific deductions...
- Elaina deciding that "Rialto" (name on collar that I was only recently granted access to) is most definitely not a girl name
- Elaina noting that "this cat's parts don't look the same as Zoe's parts"
- Richard declaring that he got a "distinctly male vibe" after spending 4 hours with the kitty
... we think Maquerelle is a boy!
Woops. So...
Maq it is. Maq the ravenous. Maq the dribbling. Maq the milk-clawing. Maq the napping. Maq the male.
I confess it'll be a bit of an adjustment. I hope we didn't give
the poor thing a gender-identity complex while we were getting all this
sorted out.
Oh boy.
Maq came by for her usual morning visit. After snarfling down her food and depositing several small wet leaves on my couch, she came over to perform some intense milk-clawing on my lap and belly. Then, something unexpected and extremely telling happened: she dribbled. As she sat there, eye closed, in the throes of kitty ecstasy, I saw a glimmer of drool travel down her chin and onto her chest.
Oh no. She's gone and fallen in love. What's worse... she's a dribbler in love.
As if these discoveries weren't enough to stun me into shock, there's more. She proceeded to curl up next to me and go to into a deep, purring sleep. Holy crap! Drool and sleep and purring? She's got it bad.
Tucked up inside herself on my couch, she is the picture of kitty contentedness. She is a kitty in love. Just look at her ridiculous kitty joy:
Maquerelle is back for visit #2 today, famished from whatever ungodly rodent-torture activities have been occupying her time. What the hell does she do all day that makes her so hungry?
*Imagines Maquerelle leaping from rooftop to rooftop, saving the
neighborhood from the Rodent Mafia and a rogue band of Ninja Squirrels,
all the while keeping her supehero identity a secret from both her
full-time and part-time families.*
She's tucking into the new dry food I bought her like someone is going to rip it away from her. Here I thought I was going to get away with feeding her just once a day. I made that rule this morning, and already it's been pushed aside. Once again, the motto I've stolen from an old Yiddish proverb proves true.
* As an side, the original proverb is something like, "Men plan. God laughs." I like the sound of the original better than the one I use, but I don't want it to sound like it only applies to males. Damn this forwardish-thinking p.c. world we live in!
In addition to eating me out of house and home, she:
- bat a piece of foil around my hardwood floor
- hid under my bed
- groomed every square inch of herself
- curled up next to me and insisted on being pet
- tried, in vain, to sharpen her claws on my couch
- got indignant when I wouldn't let her sharpen her claws on my couch
- mewed... a lot
- tried to crawl into an Old Navy bag, but gave up when she found it still full of clothes
I have a part-time cat named Maquerelle. This isn't her real name, but it's what she's called at my house. She's a beautiful, slender gray cat who cries at my window until she gains entry. Once inside, she proceeds rub on everything and mew insistently. She hisses and bites if you scratch her under the chin, but otherwise she's perfectly sweet.
Racked with guilt about giving her bits of people food (this is
actually where her name came from... she once got some scraps of
mackerel), I went out and purchased cat food for my part-time
cat. It was wet food, which I would never give to a cat in my
full-time care, but I decided to go for it given the infrequency of her
visits and her overall scrawniness.
Well, her visits have become more frequent. She comes, she mews, she rubs, she eats, and then she promptly leaves. Mind you, she rarely (if ever) eats much. I think she mostly likes the idea of walking into a stranger's home, demanding food, scarcely sniffing at it, and then leaving as soon as she's had her way. Gotta love cats. Since she's coming more often, I'm now racked with guilt about feeding her too much wet food. I'll have to remedy that.
In any event, I ran out of kitty food during her last visit. This morning I could only offer her a few scraps of turkey, which she utterly rejected. Not easily daunted, she continued her wailing and rubbing as if to say, "I know you have the good stuff here. Don't waste my time with this crap. Give it up, sister!"
I patiently explained the situation -- that I had nothing else for her and was running late for work -- but she would have none of it. I tried to coax her out the window, but she hadn't had her way with me yet. It was then that I was forced to do the unthinkable. For the first time in our months-long relationship, I picked her up and put her outside before she was ready to go.
She's afraid of the front door, so I picked up her steadily purring little body and gently lowered her out window and onto the roof (I'm on the second floor). She looked up at me confused, indignant. This isn't what she's signed up for, after all. She continued to sit on the roof, perplexedly licking her paws, until I ran out the door ten minutes later.
Poor Maquerelle! She learned a hard lesson today about the bruteness of the world.
