Cat Challenge

I think I’ve said this before, but I love animals.  I talk to puppies, I’ve tried to catch birds, and ducks hold a special place in my heart.  So it was no great surprise one weekend when I told my friend that I would babysit his cat while he went away for a few days.  This was no great favor, because I absolutely LOVE cats.  I’ve been trying to get another one for a while but my boyfriend quickly kyboshes the idea whenever I bring it up.  I already have one cat, named Onyong (Arrested Development lovers rejoice – if you don’t know what I’m talking about, shame on you) and I was looking forward to bringing a friend over for her to play with.  My friend’s cat was named George, also a girl, and I wasn’t sure if having two females in the same house was a good idea or a bad one, but when they’re both cuddly and cute one really cant go wrong.

George was dropped off in the morning and immediately assessed her situation; strange house, strange smells, new large humans poking at her…and another cat.  “She’s great with people” my friend said, setting down her litter box.  I reached down to pet her as my friend dropped the scratchy post on the ground and, trying to save his own toes, accidentally stepped on George’s tail – not the best send off, I’d have to say.

We tried to make George feel right at home.  I gave her lots of chin rubs, set up her bed and fed her some treats (to the dismay of my own cat who is, unfortunately, on a diet). I attempted to pick her up, but once I received my third hiss I backed off.  This was a first. Usually cats warm right up to me; so instead of being put off, I accepted the challenge.

I spent the next hour or so following George around with one of her toys, cooing at her and telling her I was going to be her best friend for the next three days.  For some reason she took this as hostile behavior, swatting at me whenever I got too close.  I retreated and came back with Onyong.  Holding her up on her hind legs I walked her around to where George was sitting…this may not have been a good idea.  George yowled and hissed at Onyong, then leaping forward she took a swipe.  I, holding Onyong’s front legs, was obviously hindering my own cat from retaliation.  Onyong then turned on me in anger and bit the back of my knee. 

At this point I needed to re-assess my strategy.  Two angry cats that seemed to be ganging up on me in a one-bedroom apartment left very little room for maneuvering.  George took up occupation under my bed, growling whenever anyone entered the room.  Onyong sat on the floor next to her food dish swiping at my ankles whenever I walked past.  I decided that feeding Onyong was the best way to get her back on my team.

I filled her dish and waited for the love to come.  It didn’t.

George, hearing the kibbles fall into an empty bowl, ran out from under the bed in a mad dash.  Have you ever heard a cat meow, hiss and run at the same time? It’s terrifying.  I picked up Onyong and ran for it.  George sat by the dish gobbling up the food, daring us to come any closer with her eyes.  At one point, when George lay down in a food coma, I actually attempted to get the food dish for Onyong.  I tip toed closer and nervously reached my hand towards her. No, I did not get it.  George was too quick for me and I shamefully went back to Onyong bleeding and empty-handed.  From this point, things really just went down hill.

About three hours later my boyfriend came home to the sounds of growling coming from the bedroom.  I can only laugh at the situation now, as I must have look completely ridiculous.  I was sitting in the middle of the bed (where George had cornered me) wearing a ski jacket, gumboots and oven-mitts.  He sort of stared at me for a moment, and then assessed the fact that Onyong was huddled on my lap with huge saucer-like eyes.  I looked at him with unwavering fear and said, “Battle attire”. 

“What’s that growling noise coming from under the bed?” he asked.

“It’s George” I replied, “I can’t get off the bed because she’ll get me”.

I gave him the short version of day’s events because I was pretty sure George knew when I was talking about her.  I explained why the winter battle garments were necessary, then told him it was best if he didn’t enter the room because at least one of us should survive the evil that was under our bed.

We spent the next two nights at my boyfriends parents house.  I left George all the cat food I had in the house and locked the door.

Challenge lost.

Domesticated

Four short stories of life after the romance...

~I woke up today and decided to wash all the laundry, including all the towels in our house, then sat down to a nice cup of coffee.  I was reading my new book when I heard a strange whining noise coming from the bathroom.  As I walked through the doorway I saw my boyfriend; dripping wet standing on the bath mat. 

“Do you have a towel for me?” he asked.

I threw him a facecloth and went back to my coffee.

~Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one doing the cleaning.  I know that my boyfriend and I share the house hold jobs, but every once in a while I find myself scrubbing the bathtub, taking out the garbage and emptying the dishwasher all in the same amount of time it takes him to scratch his balls and surf the internet.  Of course, I know he’ll help me eventually, but some days I really don’t feel like waiting 45 min until he notices what I’m doing.  Last week I’d had it.  The kitchen wasn’t really that dirty, so I helped it along a bit.  I dumped coffee grinds on the counter, emptied stinky old food containers into the garbage, tossed carrot peels on the floor and knocked over beer cans from the recycling that still had beer in them.  All in all, it was a mess.  When he came out of the bedroom I said, “I’ll clean the bathrooms today honey, you just do the kitchen”.  “Really!?” he replied, “ok, if you’re sure!”

Turns out, the joke was on me; he sucks at cleaning.  I spent the next 45 min AFTER cleaning the bathroom, cleaning the kitchen to my standards. Keep it simple ladies; they’re either way smarter than we think, or too oblivious to know we tried to trick them.

~My boyfriend likes to grown out his facial hair every once in a while. I’m sure it’s just pure laziness, but once in a while turns in to all the time, and it soon becomes a rarity when his face is actually smooth. I can take it sometimes, but forgive me if I don’t like having my face rubbed off every time he goes in for a smooch. And yet, I don’t want to be the girlfriend that asks him to shave.

Problem solver: I shave when he shaves.

Last night he shaved.  I decided I didn’t feel like shaving my legs after all.  Too much hassle.

 ~After doing laundry, I usually pile all the clean clothes on the couch and forget about them for 2 days.  The result is a mound of clothing that my boyfriend and I sift through to find underwear and socks.  He kind of hates that half the couch is dedicated to laundry, but folding really is the crappiest job ever.  A few days ago he asked me when I was going to start putting it all away.  I replied by asking when dinner was going to be ready.  After a few grunts and slammed drawers from the kitchen I received my plate; complete with sautéed swiss chard, roasted potatoes and….“What the hell?” I murmured.

He looked at me with a smile and replied “well, if you get to do half the laundry cleaning, I get to do half the dinner cooking.”

Yup, my steak was raw.