Once again Cat Welfare Association tricked me into participating in their kitty calendar contest! THEY GET ME EVERY TIME! I pay to enter photos, then pay to vote, then harass my friends and family to pay to vote…and then I buy the calendar.
Counting the calendars I purchased, my cats are responsible for about $200 of donated votes to earn their well deserved spots in the 2018 calendar. However the big winner at our house was Olivia Wigglebothum, 2018’s Miss April! It’s her birthday month!
I purchased my calendar copies at the Cat Welfare Community Open House. They set up craft vendors, food, and live music that day in the shelter’s parking lot.
The cool flower is made entirely of coat hangers! DIY! DIY!
Thankfully, the shelter was also open so I could get in some petting of strange heads.
If you too, need to buy a bunch of calendars featuring my fur kid for various Christmas presents, they are now available on Cat Welfare’s website.
Just let me make it through the day to nap time.
I can cast the witches for MacBeth:
“Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.”
They are all about the tongue of dog.
Or I can continue the Catzilla franchise. Mini-Catzilla must sniff pumpkin!! Rowr!!
My home life is a little like that scene from Office Space when Peter points out that he has eight bosses micro managing his existence.
Given, I only have four different bosses, but they are completely up my ass about every thing that I try to do. They question my competence at every turn. I can’t even carve pumpkins without major supervision.
First, there has to be an inspection of the pumpkins. Were these REALLY the best ones?
Then my top supervisor, the Helper, has to be a part of the whole process. Step by step, he has to put in his squash related know-how. “Back when I was just a feral kitten, we only picked the biggest pumpkins…”
It turns out that he was mostly concerned with watching the rest of Season 1 of Stranger Things even though he and the other bosses were very upset by the flashback where Eleven appears to be torturing a cat with her powers. They don’t like yowling cats unless they are the ones doing it.
I think the giant knife really completes the photo.
My at-home bosses don’t realize that at my “real job,” I was told to either watch the series this weekend or be ostracized from lunch discussions. I can’t deal with being ignored at both of my “jobs.”
Finally, all the bosses had to weigh in on my job performance. I don’t think that this was really my best work, other years have been better. However, none of them have fired me yet or pooped in my shoes.
The Kitten Room at the shelter is not much bigger than my bathroom; but like the Tardis, the Kitten Room’s power is way bigger on the inside.
In the Kitten Room I am a benevolent tree, an Ent if you will, being climbed by a horde of tiny, squirming creatures, all vying for cuddles. One rooted leg is assailed by a miniature black panther who gives up around my knee. The other leg supports a tiger who may have hit the weight limit for climbing jeans, as his needle-sharp claws dig deep into my hip. Meanwhile a tinier, wiggly tiger is running laps around my neck and periodically sticking his nose in my ear to demonstrate purr potential.
While the slightly larger tiger makes sleepy eyes at me from the crook of my arm, tinier tiger keeps zooming. He stops once in each lap to settle on the convenient shelf my chest makes and nose boop the calmer tiger. Then back to zooming.
Whenever I manage to sit down or bend over, a black and white, cow-spotted kitten gives me “soft pets,”patting at my face with insistent paws. This tears me up a bit as it immediately reminds me of Bella Luna’s possessive paw to my cheek when we first met at her shelter. Cow kitten then hangs out on the elevated foot of my crossed leg.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m covered in strange cat hair and strange smells. I will have to leave my shoes and clothes in the garage when I get home. Windowless, attached garages are essential for extended shelter cat petting. My cats will know I’ve been cheating on them with younger, more enthusiastic versions of themselves.
Since I didn’t fall madly in love and bring home a fifth,- this is the miracle of the day
– they’ll forgive me.
Sookie: “Stop it. I don’t want to be in your stupid picture.”
Me: “Then stop skulking around behind me. Lurker!”
Adding ridiculous photo filter of entirely fictional cat who actually likes me.
Sookie: “Now I really don’t want in your damned photo.”
Whoever creates the photo filter app that recognizes pet faces so I can put cartoon cat ears on my cats, will be a hero. Even as I type this, one is probably out there.
Me: “Who wants their tum rubbed? Do you want your tum rubbed?”
Olivia Wigglebothum: “I WANT Donald Trump to go away.”
Me: “Yea, we all do.”
Olivia Wigglebothum: “He’s embarrassing, sad, and frightening all at once. This shit keeps me up at night. He makes the Bush years seem elegant, safe, and rational. Is there no psych eval for world leaders? Why does he hate EVERYTHING? What the Hell?!”
Me: “I know, kitten. How about that tummy rub now?”
For less upset tums, check out Katzenworld’s weekly Tummy Rub Tuesday.