Lately I feel like Lucy likes Mike more than she likes me. And while I've managed to joke about it in front of him, it actually really bothers me.
Most of the time I attribute this to the fact that I play "bad cop" more often than he does lately. I yell at her for scratching. Scratching the couch, the bed frame, the screens...you name it. I squirt her with my nifty little water bottle for jumping on the nightstand, which she now knows is a no-no, but yet does anyway. She's an insolent teenager trapped in an incredibly cute cat's body apparently. And I feel like my regular litter box emptying is completely unappreciated and does nothing to warrant me fuzzy feline affection.
It's not that Mike isn't involved in taking care of her. He is every bit of parent as I am. He helps out with emptying the litter once in a while and will clean out the box when it needs it. It's just that he's a heavier sleeper, so by nighttime, when most of the water bottle action takes place, he's out cold while I'm left to deter her from her rebellious habits. Therefore making me bad cop. He's better at feeding her, making him good cop.
Cats are incapable of evaluating these differences. Maybe I should just start sneaking her treats to win over her affections?
If only she wasn't already a chunky little butt. Chunky little butts don't get extra treats. I should know. Mike and I are both dieting right now.
Showing posts with label cat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cat. Show all posts
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Monday, September 24, 2012
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
flying robo-kitty!
This video leaves me speechless. Mostly because I'm laughing so hard. Which is completely inappropriate.
If Lucy pees on anything else I think this is what her future holds.
And I just realized my last post talked about cat pee. Awkward.
If Lucy pees on anything else I think this is what her future holds.
And I just realized my last post talked about cat pee. Awkward.
Friday, May 25, 2012
is it just me or...
Guavas smell like cat pee. My cab to work today smelled like guava. Therefore, my ride to work smelled like cat piss. This does not bode well for my night.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
lucy
Meet my cat. Lucy. The first pet I've had on my own.
She'll be 2 years old this summer. Although she still has kittenish moments, she has matured since I got her in August. She's also grown from petite kitten to fatty mcfatterson, but now she's just comfortably chubby. I had to adjust her eating regime in order not to induce a premature heart attack. She's just as content in her plain old chubby state.
She has a foot fetish. This ranges from her attacking your feet during the middle of the night to her licking/biting them during your nightly TV rituals. Sometimes she just likes to sit next to your feet. She just likes feet. I don't ask questions.
She likes bleach. I've grown up owning cats and this was a new one for even me, but apparently a lot of cats are attracted to the ammonia as if it were catnip (which, by the way, she couldn't care less about). If I am cleaning the kitchen or bathroom I have to keep an eye on her. She'll come snooping around. Once I deter her, she'll proceed to roll around the floor in pure pleasure like a shameless hussy. Whore.
She's a piggy. I love her for it. Her favorite is beef in gravy. Or anything in gravy, for that matter.
She is not declawed, which is a new one for me. I have perfected the art of cutting her nails. I like to look at it as a bonding experience. She's definitely more trusting than when I first attempted. We have a cheap armchair (bought it off a friend for $25) that holds our mail and miscellaneous crap. She has clawed it to shreds, but the rest of the furniture has been saved, for the most part. A little squirt from the spray bottle deters her from the rest.
She likes open windows and cool tile, pony tails and twist ties.
She's also racist. She has had a minor peeing problem in the past (*crosses fingers*), but this only pertained to black items (i.e. black laptop bag, black duffel bag, black backpack, black t-shirt). I'm hoping it was only due to her nerves after the move from the humane society to the apartment, a whopping two miles, but I immediately noticed her discretion when it came to my more racially diverse belongings. Perhaps I shall have to educate her on the finer points of acceptance and civil rights?
She'll be 2 years old this summer. Although she still has kittenish moments, she has matured since I got her in August. She's also grown from petite kitten to fatty mcfatterson, but now she's just comfortably chubby. I had to adjust her eating regime in order not to induce a premature heart attack. She's just as content in her plain old chubby state.
She has a foot fetish. This ranges from her attacking your feet during the middle of the night to her licking/biting them during your nightly TV rituals. Sometimes she just likes to sit next to your feet. She just likes feet. I don't ask questions.
She likes bleach. I've grown up owning cats and this was a new one for even me, but apparently a lot of cats are attracted to the ammonia as if it were catnip (which, by the way, she couldn't care less about). If I am cleaning the kitchen or bathroom I have to keep an eye on her. She'll come snooping around. Once I deter her, she'll proceed to roll around the floor in pure pleasure like a shameless hussy. Whore.
She's a piggy. I love her for it. Her favorite is beef in gravy. Or anything in gravy, for that matter.
She is not declawed, which is a new one for me. I have perfected the art of cutting her nails. I like to look at it as a bonding experience. She's definitely more trusting than when I first attempted. We have a cheap armchair (bought it off a friend for $25) that holds our mail and miscellaneous crap. She has clawed it to shreds, but the rest of the furniture has been saved, for the most part. A little squirt from the spray bottle deters her from the rest.
She likes open windows and cool tile, pony tails and twist ties.
She's also racist. She has had a minor peeing problem in the past (*crosses fingers*), but this only pertained to black items (i.e. black laptop bag, black duffel bag, black backpack, black t-shirt). I'm hoping it was only due to her nerves after the move from the humane society to the apartment, a whopping two miles, but I immediately noticed her discretion when it came to my more racially diverse belongings. Perhaps I shall have to educate her on the finer points of acceptance and civil rights?
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