We Know How to Have a Good Time

It's 11:14 PM and we have just finished shaving our cat.

How was your Friday night?

Lazy Sunday

A Makeup Emergency

My eyeliner is missing. I blame the cat.

Eyeliner is small and round and therefore perfect for batting around the house. Perhaps even better than wine corks.

But seriously. I really need that eyeliner back, cat.

MySpace, Revisited

My students, as you may recall, like to make fun of me for A) having a cat, B) not having a MySpace, and C) thinking reading's cool. One class in particular makes daily jokes about my presumed status as a crazy cat lady, and has even gone so far as to decorate the class tissue box with cat-related grafitti.

This morning we had the following conversation while cramming for an impending quiz:

Kid 1: What'd you do this weekend? Read?

(collective laughter)

Me: Um, I read the newspaper. And some websites.

Kid 2: Like what?

Me: Oh, I was all UP in some MySpace this weekend!

Kid 1: You on MySpace now?

Me: No. I was kidding.

Kid 2: You need to get a MySpace!

Me: (for like the eighty-twelfth time) Why?

Kids 1, 3, 4, 5, & 6: So you can meet a man!

Kid 2: (quietly) Instead of a cat.

(collective laughter)

Me: Maybe I already met a man. Did you ever think of that?

Class: Whoa! DID you already meet a man?!

Me: I'm just sayin' it's a possibility.

Kid 1: See, if you were on MySpace everybody would KNOW you met a man.

Me: How would they know?

Kid 2: 'Cause you'd have pictures up there of you, like, kissin' him and stuff.

Actually, I wouldn't. Here, however, is a picture of me kissing my cat.

Admittedly, a man would probably be a bit more receptive to my kisses. But I'd have to feed him more often.

Why I Don't Have Kids

I awoke this morning with a hangover. Plus I was cold. The temperature had dropped about 20 degrees since I'd gone to bed with the windows open, so I lay there half awake, shivering and trying to decide whether to get up and close the windows or just go back to sleep, while my kitty alternated between two of her favorite spots: my pillow and the nearest windowsill. Shortly after Luna hopped onto the windowsill and I rolled over and pulled the covers over my head, I heard the window come crashing closed.

"Ohmygod, LUNA!" I screamed, bursting into tears as I realized that the reason her butt was dangling off the windowsill was because her left front paw was stuck under the now-closed window. Then Luna started screaming -- a sound I hope you never EVER hear coming out of someone you love -- and squirming while I opened the window to free her.

As soon as her little foot was free, she jumped down and dashed under the bed, leaving a sporadic trail of poop in her wake. I followed her and then sat on the bed crying while my sister and her boyfriend (who were visiting) tried to coax her out so we could assess the damage. Luna hissed at my sister and then darted out from under the bed, at which point I was able to scoop her up and cuddle her and say god only knows what sort of nonsense to her. And Luna, who is definitely not a lap kitty, sat cowering in my lap for a solid 15 minutes before taking up her usual position next to me (not ON me).

Careful examination of the window-smashed foot revealed exactly zero damage. She's not limping, she's not licking her foot excessively (well, she's not licking it any more than she's licking the rest of herself), and she doesn't wince when I touch her foot. If I hadn't seen it happen, I'd never know that an open window came crashing down on her.

If you think that's stopped me from worrying about her, you obviously don't know me very well. "Do you think she's okay?" I asked my sister and her boyfriend about 50 times this morning. "I think she's fine, Meg," they responded.

"Do you think I should take her to the vet?"
"I think she's fine, Meg."
"Do you think she's in shock and it only SEEMS like she's fine?"
"I think she's fine, Meg."
"Look at her pupils. Don't you think they're too dilated?"
"I think she's fine, Meg."
"But what if she has internal bleeding?"
"Internal bleeding?! In her FOOT?"

Apparently my hypochondria extends to those I love.

With the exception of an hour-long brunch, which I spent wondering aloud how my kitty was doing, and an evening break to see Borat, which I HATED and thought was reprehensible even though I was laughing the whole time (just in case anyone's keeping track of my karma), I've spent my day curled up next to Luna on the couch, petting her and asking her if she's okay and addressing her alternately as sweet kitty, sweetie, sweetheart, sweetpea, sweetness, honey, and sugar. If I'd been thinking more clearly I might have blessed her heart. But mostly I've been stroking her paw and glancing at the window and marveling at the fact that the little bones in her little foot are not completely shattered.

Cats are resilient. I know this because approximately twelve people, including the vet, have told me so today. It's the cats' moms, I guess, who need looking after. Luna herself stretched her window-smashed paw out and rested it in my open palm this afternoon, as if to assure me that she's okay.

And I KNOW she's okay because I just watched her hop down from a windowsill and land solidly on the paw that a mere twelve hours ago was trapped under a window. But still. I keep checking on her in case the trauma has finally caught up with her and the bones that weren't broken thirty minutes ago have completely fallen to pieces while I wasn't looking. I haven't entirely convinced myself I don't need to stay home from work tomorrow to keep an eye on her either.

Can you imagine how crazy I'd be if I had a HUMAN child?

The Cat Ate My Birth Control

My kitty likes to hang out in the sink. Apparently this is not uncommon, and ordinarily it's not a problem. Well, aside from it being all kinds of unsanitary. But ordinarily, if I need to, say, brush my teeth, I nudge her ten or twelve times and she glares at me and hops down.

But just now as I was getting ready for bed while Luna (my kitty) happily slurped water from the faucet, I accidentally dropped my birth control pill in the sink and she gobbled it right up.

Should I be worried? I mean, neither one of us is gettin' any, but who KNOWS what happens to cats on estrogen. Maybe it's like the new club drug for kitties.

Sleeping Arrangements

Okay honey, here's the deal. There's my side of the bed and your side of the bed. I know you can sleep damn near anywhere, but I can't. I don't sleep well on your side and I don't sleep well when you're on my side. Usually you're pretty good about this, but over the past few weeks you've been slowly encroaching on my side. Until early EARLY this morning, when I rolled over and discovered you had completely taken over my pillow, leaving no room for me. And I know I pushed you and whined, "get back on your own pillow" as you yawned and stretched, and I know that was pretty bitchy. But did you have to get up and go sleep on the couch?


I was so lonely.

Basic Instinct

My cat is quite possibly the friendliest cat in the world. She loves me best, but she also loves strangers. When someone knocks on my door, she runs to the door and sits there meowing until I let them in, at which point she rubs up against them and flops down at their feet waiting to be pet.

Today, however, she took one look at the air conditioning repair man and darted behind me, peeking at him around my legs. He began speaking and she bolted downstairs where, minutes later, I found her cowering under the bed. And she's a cat, so it didn't even mean anything to her that what Mr. A/C had said, while leering at me, was, "So. . .are you all alone here?". She just has an instinctive fear of creepy guys.

Imagine if we all came equipped with that feature. And imagine if we could deal with creepy guys just by hiding under the bed until they went away.

Cat Meets Fish

Although Luna is a pretty smart cat, it's taken her nearly six months to discover that we also have a fish. She's spent the last few days trying desperately to figure out how to get the fish -- whether to play with or to eat, I'm not sure -- while I repeatedly explain to her that the fish was here first. See, what Luna doesn't know is that Fish (yes, the Fish's name is Fish, he's a fish for the love of god) has been here all along. Fish came to live with me over a year ago after one of my students and one of A-Rod's students decided that the best way to achieve their goal of getting us to fall in love with each other was to bestow matching fish upon us. While this seems like a foolproof plan to even the least romantic among us, it didn't quite work out that way (and PS, I could have done without all the resulting drama). At least Fish has a new mission in his little fish life, which is to torment my cat with his mere existence. It's actually quite entertaining, especially if you're the sort who doesn't own a television.

Luna is Grounded!

Luna

Okay, I promise I am not becoming a cat lady (you know: 27 cats, 0 boyfriends) but some people (namely my sister) have been bitching that there are no new pictures of Luna. The thing about Luna is that she's weird. You know how cats are supposed to hate water? I guess if anyone's cat was going to turn out to love water it would be mine, given my near-worship of said element. Luna spends a considerable amount of time hanging out in the shower and the sink. In fact, as soon as I turn the water on in either she rushes from wherever she is to hop in. Weirdo.