An at-length discussion on the “If I fits, I sits” phenomenon concluded with a shake of our heads and a repetition of one of our go-to mantras, “cat people” (other oft-repeated phrases include “Seriously!/?/!?” and “Fuck that noise.”). Normally, “cat people” indicates a topical shift for us. It pops out when we’re at the end of our explanatory feline rope. We have conveyed all that we are capable of verbalizing on the subject, and are forced to chalk up the rest of the mystery as being accessible only to members of the bizarre world of cat ownership.
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| It’s a very exclusive club. |
However, this time something was different. Maybe it was a result of the temporary lull in the Hellish July heat wave, or perhaps it was due to the moving-induced deterioration of our mental health states, but for whatever reason, we just couldn’t let it go.
PAUL: Cat people.
ANYA: Seriously, cat people.
PAUL: Right.
ANYA: No, really. Like, we’re all weird about our pets. Your dog is the most neurotic mess I’ve ever seen, and I’m completely insane about my ferrets. Sure. But CAT PEOPLE, man. They’re on a whole ‘nother motha-fucking level (to quote Chris Rock in Ye’s hit record ‘Blame Game’).
The conversation kind of devolved from there, to the elaborate ways that cat people explain their feline companions to other people. From their social handicaps, to their delicate sensibilities, to the weird shit humans capture them doing, cats are fucking crazy, man. And some require more in depth guidelines for coexistence than others. See: My Cat From Hell. Love them or hate them, we can all agree they’re bizarre and inexplicable creatures. And so their owners (guardians?) have to write whole rule books for visitors meeting the cat(s) in the house.
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| Smiling to hide their joint terror. |
And for any of you out there who are saying “noooo, that’s crazy, cats are pets just like everything else, and other pet owners are exactly the same/worse”, calling bullshit on the play. To demonstrate the truth of this, see below. One of these scenarios happened before our very eyes. If you can guess which one, kudos, you have a cat and you’re crazy. If you can’t...well then that really proves our point. Sound fair? Don’t care. Here goes:
Scenario 1:
STOP! What are you doing!? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout, but you’re really better off not sitting there. That’s Gregory’s spot. He doesn’t like the fabric on the couch, and we can’t reupholster again right now. I tried putting a blanket down, but he knows and just tears it up anyway. I know it sounds like I’m being crazy, but things have been really stressful around here. For both of us. Since I started the new job, I’ve been getting home 15 minutes later in the evening, and it’s completely destroyed his [still on the cat here] schedule. He always ate dinner at 6:15 on the dot, and he’s having a very difficult time adjusting to change. And who among us doesn’t? It just breaks my heart to think about him crying here for a quarter of an hour “where’s mommy?!”. Ugh I feel so guilty.
And on top of that, he’s completely changed his eating habits, like he wants to punish me! He has always gotten pretty much whatever he wants, of course I do the mixture of wet and dry food so that he’s hydrated but also gets tartar protection. I even tried whole prey for awhile, but since I still had to cut it up and debone everything, it totally wasn’t worth it. But for the past two weeks he’s refused to eat anything but salmon patties. Not that I mind making them or paying for them every day, I’m not trying to cheap out on him or anything, I just hate to think about all of the other dishes he’s missing out on. My poor brave boy. He’s so shaken up that some of his hair is falling out! I hope that it’s just a temporary funk and that he hasn’t developed psychogenic alopecia. I would hate for Gregory to have to go back on his antidepressants. They made him so terribly groggy.
Scenario 2:
You saw one of the cats? Which one... not the shaved black one!? Oh, the gray one? Yeah, that’s fine. Wait. You didn’t go in the basement, did you? That’s his place. I mean, he lets my mom come downstairs every few days the change out the litter, but otherwise... Okay, I’m making him sound completely terrible, but he’s really not that bad, he’s just a little misunderstood. His name? Well we call him Diablo, as a joke, but his real name is Voldemort, just because we love Harry Potter and he has that weird scrunched up nose, not because he’s a supreme evil lord or anything, like, he can be a little naughty, but he really is totally fine for the most part. If you see him, he’s not going to suddenly attack you or anything, just do not, I repeat, do not ever pet him.
Well, he’s fine when he’s sitting there and sometimes he even looks like he wants you pet him, and I’m not saying that it’s a trap, but he’s just really sensitive and once you start petting him, he remembers how much he hates petting and he will turn on you in a second. But don’t freak out about sleeping tonight. You guys will be totally fine on the pull-out couch, Diablo has never bitten anyone while they were sleeping. You might wake up with him sitting on your chest, but he won’t claw your eyes out, just, like, don’t move. He’ll probably just stare at your face for a bit, but eventually he’ll get bored and leave. Well, he might go and kind of... mount? your leg and kind of... gyrate, a little bit. It’s just a little territorial/domination thing, but it usually doesn’t last that long, just, you know, don’t touch him while he’s doing it... because he will bite you.
Scenario 3:
Okay, man, we all set for tonight? Just swing on by around 8, it’ll be great to see you guys again. Huh? Oh, uhh, no, we’ll just have to hang out and stuff, like, it would be really cool to play Settlers of Catan, but Ginger hates board games. What? No. My girlfriend’s name is Jenny, Ginger’s my cat. Yeah, I think that it’s because it’s an activity that she can’t participate in at all? Like, if we’re all just chilling out, she can sit with us and she’s totally fine, like she’ll walk around with us and snuggle and everything’s great. But board games are just, like, not really an option, yeah, she’ll try to play with us, so she’ll, like, steal and hide pieces or else she’ll just kind of roll around on the board, and it’s really funny and stuff, but we can’t really play anything.
Well, sure you guys are welcome to stay the night, just maybe leave your stuff in your car? I mean, I guess I don’t know how she is about people sleeping on the couch, but every time Jenny stays here, Ginger gets, you know, normal cat territorial, and just pees on all of her stuff. Even the towel she uses in the bathroom. What? Yeah I know, it sucks, but what can you do? I mean, I get where she’s coming from. No, the cat, not Jenny, she can just leave her stuff outside in the trunk or whatever. I mean at least she can fix the peeing thing but doing that. The thing she really hates is how Ginger hates it when we fuck. Yeah. Well, I mean she just kind of hate-stares mostly, which I don’t think is that big of a deal, but Jenny isn’t really down with it. But if we lock her out of the room, she does that howling thing until we let her back in! So like, what choice do we have? Yeah, she just kind of perches on the nightstand. Jenny keeps saying she’s going to attack one day, but it’s like no way would my cat do that to me. Yeah. Ha, well yeah. Ok, see you tonight then.
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