The Crazy Cat Lady

In the list of stereotypes that I try to avoid, "crazy cat lady" is near the top of the list. (Not that there's anything wrong with that for my cat-loving friends; I'm definitely a crazy dog lady.) However, when you're Southern, 30, single and a often a bridesmaid, you'd be amazed how many people suggest your home life is full of stuffed animals, multiple cats and repeated references to Sex and the City.

For the record, I don't have stuffed animals. I didn't like Sex and the City. (Why do people judge you if Miranda's your favorite character? Wouldn't you be that dark if you spent all of your time with those three other crazies? Brunch chatter alone would be enough to push me over the homicidal edge.) And until recently, I didn't have a cat. 

I am so paranoid about people thinking I might be slinking towards "crazy cat lady" territory  that I won't buy cat food without buying dog food, too. Should I find myself in need of cat items alone, I will announce to the cashier and anyone within earshot that "I also have a dog." You know, just in case.

But, a few days ago, I found myself at a place called Cat Haven, and there really was no sense in pretending anymore.

Over Labor Day weekend, I decided to board Kitty Cat Jones since we all know how well he behaves when I go out of town, and hence the entry of Cat Haven into my life.

Now, having both a dog and a cat, I'm used to a vet's office that's pretty evenly divided between dog and cat paraphernalia. So, I wasn't quite prepared for the experience that was Cat Haven -- cat tunnels, cat calendars and about seven lounging cats to greet me as I arrived. (Also, though, complete with friendly staff and very reasonable prices.)

"Are you a first-time patient?"

"Yes," I said, putting Kitty Cat Jones on the counter in his carrier once I had adequately shut the door to prevent escaping cats -- as warned by the sign on the front door.

"We just have a few forms for you to fill out."

I provided all of the info about the cat's vaccination, etc. and handed the forms back to the lovely receptionist a few moments later.

"So, the cat's name is?" she said, eyeing the rather odd slash on my form.

"Well," I said, "he was Toonces, but them my boyfriend started calling him Kitty Cat Jones, so he kind of goes by that now.  But, a lot of his medical records are under Toonces, so I thought I'd just put them both on there."

"I see."

"Yeah," I said. "He really will answer to either." It was kind of awkward.

"Well, I'm sure he'll be just fine here," the receptionist said. "Have a great Labor Day weekend."

"You, too," I said. "Thanks so much, and I'll see y'all on Tuesday."

 I shook off my minor feelings of crazy, made sure no cats had tried to escape with me on my way out and went about the rest of my day.

About an hour later (bank deposit and Chik-fil-A run included), I noticed a missed call and voice mail on my phone. It was Cat Haven.

My first fear was that Kitty Cat Jones might have already made some enemies at Cat Haven, and I seriously considered ignoring the message and pretending I didn't receive it until after our vacation was over. I didn't have a back-up plan for Cat Haven expulsion two hours from departure time, and it's always better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?

Whether it was curiosity or self-sabotage, I listened to the message anyway and followed the directions to call Cat Haven back.

"Ms. Mills," the receptionist said, "we tried to confirm Toonces' vaccines and spaying with the Alabama Spay & Neuter clinic, but they seemed to have trouble locating his records."

Knowing I was about to sound even crazier, I attempted to apologize in advance, but the bottom line came down to this: "Oh, that's because his name was Cocoa back then. You'd have to look under Cocoa Mills for those records."

"I see."

The real lesson I learned this past weekend? My sanity/behavior has little to do with circumstance or pet choice. Cat or no, I'm just crazy, and I do appreciate the staff at Cat Haven for drawing as little attention to my off-beat behavior as possible.

But, should I decide a shopping cart is the best way to transport my belongings around the neighborhood or to the office, I want an intervention ASAP. Even I have limits.

Cat Watch 2010

Becauseof my flea infestation, I decided to move the world’s most difficult cat to theSO’s house, so he would not be assaulted by the tiny bloodsuckers.

(Unfortunately,despite a flea treatment and a flea collar, the cat still had fleas, so I hadto bathe him with flea/tick shampoo. Bathing a cat? Not easy. Then Iflea-combed him. Also, not easy. After all that, I washed everything in thebathroom from the towels to the floor mats because of my ever-growing fleaparanoia. This is the short answer to why I haven’t been on Twitter as muchlately and why the water bill is late. Sorry social media and utilityprovider.)

Uponour arrival at the SO’s house, the cat seemed just fine. He lazed on the frontporch, as per usual, and taunted the dogs. All seemed right with the world.

Iwent out for the evening, and when I came home, I made my usual “mew” sound tocommunicate with him. (Yes, it is a ridiculous sight.) The cat responds to mymews with mews of his own, so we usually go back and forth for awhile. It’s likethe “Meow Mix” commercial, only in rounds with me being tone deaf and the catseeming kind of annoyed by how off-key I am. By sound, I was sure I should beright on top of him and was all sorts of confused as to why I couldn’t find himuntil I looked up.

Thecat had responded to his new surroundings by running up the tallest tree hecould find. For good measure, he also chose the tree closest to a power line.

Idon’t know what I thought the cat would do, but I continued mewing andstretched out my arms – like he might jump to me I suppose – before giving upand heading in to Google and sleep.

Surely,I thought, the Internet would have answers. That, or he would come down bymorning.

But,my little feline love did not earn the title of the world’s most difficult catfor nothing. He stayed in that tree all day. Every time he saw me or the SO hewould whine, and when he whined, we would go towards him and encourage him tocome down.

After24 hours, it was clear that I refused to buy an extension ladder and that thecat refused to budge from his limb. We were at a standstill.

Unfortunately,the cat also whined whenever he saw a neighbor, so I also felt that my pet-rearingskills were being scrutinized.

OnDay Two of Cat Watch 2010, one neighbor said, “I think you need to call 911about that thing.”

Thisjust made me feel bad for EMTs. As a sane person, I know that a cat up a treedoes not qualify as an emergency. I worry about the definitions other peoplehave.

Ialso learned that the fire department does not get cats out of trees (and theswitchboard operator will chuckle at you if you ask). The humane society,animal control and wildlife rescue don’t get cats out of trees. The treeservices will – for a price.

Andjudge me if you want – it certainly won’t be the first time in these past fewweeks – but I wasn’t about to drop what I figured would be at least $100 ongetting the cat out of a tree it would most likely run straight back up.

So,I took the age old-advice of “have you ever seen a dead cat in a tree?” andwaited for the dear to come down on his own.

Sureenough, right before the beginning of what would have been Day Three of CatWatch 2010, the cat came down ready to be petted and fed.

Whatgoes up must come down -- even when it’s a very stubborn cat.

The World's Weirdest Cat (or How I Learned to be an Optimist)

As we all know well, my cat, unlike 99% of all cats, will not go near his litter box. After purchasing four different litter boxes, three different kinds of litter and investing in enough Swiffer products to start my own maid service, I was pretty much at my wit's end. 

I finally decided that since the cat seems to think he's a dog anyway, maybe a daily walk with Cassidy would help.

Have I always been the person who makes fun of anyone who puts a cat on a leash? Yes. Did I ever, at any point in my wildest dreams, see myself as the kind of person who would walk a cat? Certainly not. Was I more embarrassed to walk my cat in front of the neighbors than the time I climbed in the car half-dressed with a towel on my head to drive to a friend's house because my hot water went out just as it was time to rinse the Nice 'N' Easy gray coverage dye out of my hair? Yes.

But, as well all know, desperate times call for desperate measures, so I suited the animals up.

Toonces the cat spent 60% of the walk lying on his back in the middle of the sidewalk refusing to move and trying to squirm out of his collar. He spent the other 40% flattening himself against the ground and creeping along like a crab.

Cassidy, excited for a chance to run and play and sniff was not pleased to have such a sedentary companion.

The only aspect of the walk that seemed passable was when we passed some barking dogs and Toonces clung to me for dear life. I thought, "Maybe, at least now, he'll appreciate me. Maybe now, he'll realize how lucky he is to have a safe, warm and loving home."

No such luck.

Without peeing, pooping or seeming the list bit in need of some relief on our walk, Toonces went right back into the house and took a squat on the kitchen floor. 

But, strangely enough, this is not what I find to be weirdest about my cat.

The other day, I was leaving the house in a hurry and didn't realize that I had accidentally closed Toonces in the bathroom. I returned home hours later to the pathetic cries of a trapped kitten. In addition to being concerned about the poor little guy, my head also filled with visions of a shredded shower curtain, tossed about toiletries and bath mats that could never be used again because of what I was sure were their new roles as kitty toilets.

I opened the door, picked up the cat and braced myself for a look around.

The bathroom was in perfect shape. Nothing had been touched. Not even a Q-tip or two had been batted around. I stared down at Toonces in wonder. Surely, he couldn't have held his bladder for that long.

Looking a little further, I found his spot. There, just behind the toilet, there was a little pile of toilet paper stained yellow.

Yes, you heard that right. My cat is baffled by kitty litter, but somehow seems to know what toilet paper is for. If I hadn't seen it for myself, I never would have believed it. And, in some ways, it only makes me think the little guy just really loves f*&%ing with me. Because, when it comes to who's going to break first here, we all know who it's going to be. Despite his incontinence, have you seen that face?

Wherever this feline came from, he's proving to be quite a formidable match.

As an epilogue to this story, in the last few days, for some strange reason and with no major changes, Toonces has taken to using his litter box about half the time. I can't determine the triggers, and I don't exactly know how to encourage the behavior, but for the first time in my life, I really think I understand how to see the glass as half full rather than half empty.

All Smiles

Like most human beings, Iuse body language to give me clues about what another person is thinking orfeeling and how they are likely to respond to a given situation. I assume thatthe grimacing person with their arms crossed is unlikely to buy whatever I amselling or give me a good teacher evaluation at the end of the semester or evenwant to offer a flotation device if I was drowning. I hope the grinning personwho makes eye contact is a fan.

This might be just one of the reasons that I am continually amazed at the things people will say and do with a smile on. (Another reason probably has something to do with those who misrepresent themselves for the purpose of deceit and some underlying trust issues, but reason #1 seems far easier to tackle in a simple blog post.)

A few years ago, I was sitting at a party with a new acquaintance. We were discussing books because we both liked to read. Beers were in hand. We were both smiling and laughing. I mentioned how amazing I thought Oprah’s book club was because of the boon ithad given to so many writers sales- and publicity-wise.

“Yep,” he said, seeming to take in my words and give them some thoughtful consideration, “because she’s black.”

I sat there a tad surprised, to say the least.

“Don’t even get me started on the blacks.”

Now, let’s just say that based on his body language cues and everything that had gone before, I did not expect for racism to be on the menu in that conversation. A lively discussion on the true merits of William Faulkner? Maybe. Me having to feign interest inbooks related Nascar? Most likely. But outright racism? No. It made me thinkthat I really needed to listen more carefully.

Many people know that one of my personal pet peeves is fundamentalist churches that take a super casual approach to worship. I feel like there are a fair number of churches out there with the attitude of, “Come on in! Hey, we’re laid back here. Look, we wearjeans. Our minister is in a golf shirt. There’s a tambourine. This isn’t yourusual stuffy church; don’t be afraid.”

Only, then you find out, “Yeah, our church isn’t about being fancy or singing hymns from hundreds of years ago. We’re modern. We’re hip. And we’re super inclusive as long as you promise to hate gays, too.”

The point of all of this is that this is one of the reasons I was so upset by a visit to the vet a few weeks ago. I was having my cat fixed. Now, I want to say that overall, my experience was wonderful. The staff was caring. The facility was exceptionallyclean and convenient. The prices were astounding. Five stars out of five.However, shortly after entering the clinic, I was approached by a woman withthe brightest smile. She emanated warmth, and I kind of wanted to ask her for ahug -- just because.

“Don’t worry about your little one at all,” she said. “For the boys especially, it’s a really simple procedure.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I said.

“So simple,” she said, still smiling. “All we really have to do is grab the testicles [there was a hand motion], make an incision, pull back the skin …”

Let me just say that there are many early morning hours when the last thing I want to hear about is testicles. (Call me crazy.) Also, while being a fairly sensible person, I still don’t like hearing words like “pull back,” “yank” and “cut through the veins” in relation to my feline companion. It was more than a bit much, and I could see the horror on the woman’s face behind my in line as the nurse continued to describe this procedure graphically and in too much detail.

All I’m really looking for is a little truth in advertising – a few more hints about what I’m getting into. Or, maybe just someone who knows that I don’t consider racism, homophobia and/or bloody operations things to smile about. 

*If you feel that the photo accompanying this blog post is false advertising for the subject matter, I apologize. Using only royalty-free photos has severely limited my options. I just really don't want to go to jail, and I can't afford fines. Sorry.