Dogs are too needy. Here's another long post by Yours Truly. You may pick and choose what you'll read.ALLERGIES: I had a cat for seven years, but don't have it now. I miss it. *sad face* But I don't miss the allergies! There have been pets in my life for as long as I can remember and, while I knew animals made it worse, I figured it had to do with plants, smog, mold, pollen, etc as well. I got rid of the cat two years ago. I don't have really bad allergies at all! It was the animals! I can breathe through my nose almost all the time, I'm not constantly sneezing and rubbing my eyes until they hurt... I'm like a normal person! I love cats, but I may never get one again.
NAMES: People often asked if I even liked the cat, and of course I did. They asked because I always called it an "it" and never gave it a name, aside from "Cat" (or "Kitty" if it was being cute and/or I was feeling friendly ["come here kitty!" vs. "get outta there, cat!"]). It was female but I am not calling an animal "she" because it's too humanizing and weird. Ironically, I couldn't call it a he because it wasn't male, though that is what I will call all living creatures when I'm not sure what gender it is.
When I first got it, I actually had two, a black one and a gray one. Their names, naturally, were The Black One and The Gray One. At the vet, for identification purposes, they were given my last name (The Black One Deaux). When I got rid of the gray one, the other one lost its name. The people I gave the gray one to never named it, even though they've had lots of animals and always enjoyed the naming part. Huh.
FACIAL SCARS: The two kittens played around a lot, always climbing on things and falling off, squeezing under the couch and chasing each other. One day I was lying on the couch watching TV and the black one jumped off the love seat, landed on my stomach (oof!), jumped to the other arm rest and off the couch. The gray one was close behind but, instead of landing on my stomach, landed on my face and pushed off for a big leap, scratching my nose. I snatched that thing out of the air and held it there while feeling my nose. AAAAAAHHHHH! There was blood on my nose! I threw the cat and went to the bathroom. I had a long, thin scratch that ran the length of the bridge of my nose, from forehead to tip. Two things that give me nightmares: Broken teeth and facial scarring. There's no evidence of my wound now, but I was panicking then.
CAT DIET: My cat (the black one) was fat. That's because I was too lazy to feed it regularly so I had one of those things where you pour a bag of food in it, then it dispenses as the animal eats. And that cat ate and ate. It got up to 26 pounds and the vet said it needed to go on a diet. So over the next few years, it got a quarter of a cup of food a day, except when I left the cat food bag out. I would come home and there would be cat puke all over the place and cat food spread all over the kitchen, with a big hole chewed in the bag. Anyway! Once it lost all the weight, it had a lot of extra skin on its belly that wagged back and forth when it ran.
TOILET BRUSH: With my allergies, I tried not to touch it too much, except with my feet, that was okay. I think I've told someone here this story, maybe Volley. Anyway, the cat always wanted to be petted so I bought a toilet brush to pet it with. It was a brand new, clean toilet brush but people always had a cow when I told them I pet my cat with a toilet brush. The dumb thing liked it and I didn't ended up sneezing afterwards! Win win. I DID use it to clean my bathtub for a while, after the cat was gone.
FUR CLUMPS: I never brushed it (for real, not just quick swipes with the toilet brush) and a nasty clump of fur formed on its back. I cut it off with scissors but a month later, there were two. I removed those and a month after that, there were five! The cat didn't like me pulling and cutting its fur so I got an animal shaver and shaved a large spot on its back. And since I was there, I was just going to shave the whole cat but only got to do its back. It didn't like being shaved either. But once the bald spot grew in (people gave me such a hard time about it), the clumps never came back. They were really gross.
STALKER: I was watching TV again and I just happened to look over and the cat was lying on its back with its legs in the air, staring at me upside down. It was way creepy and I looked away. But since I could tell it was still staring at me, I kept peeking back at it and looking away again, getting annoyed. Omg, stop looking at me! It was like some weirdo staring at you in a restaurant! Eventually I took off one of my socks and threw it at the cat, and it went flying down the hall, came back up and into the kitchen, where it skidded across the floor and into the wall. Stupid cat.
SNOBBY, ANNOYING, STUPID CAT: I cleaned up a lot of cat waste. That stupid thing would not use the litter box if there was more than one clump in it. Oh, it made me so mad.
LIVES LIFE ON THE EDGE: I was trying to put together a shelf or something and the cat was rubbing up against me, walking in front of me and getting in the way. I kept yelling at it ("go away, cat!") but it wouldn't leave me alone. Finally pushed over the edge, I picked it up and threw it. Don't worry, it weighed a ton and I was sitting on the floor. I actually only lifted it up and tossed it about two feet. It stood there a second and came back. Before it could get in my way again, I was practically screaming at it ("NO!") and pushed it away from me. The fat cat just fell sideways on the floor and since I didn't want it anywhere near me, I had to roll it away, using my feet once it was out of arms reach. When it got up and came back again, I stood up and it ran away before I could attack. Stupid cat! After about five minutes, I saw it creeping down the hallway and it would stop when I looked at it. When it got close enough for me to touch (not that I did), every time I looked at it, it would collapse on the floor in case I was going to roll it away again. After several minutes of this, it flopped down against my leg and went to sleep.
GET OUT OF MY ROOM: The cat knew it shouldn't be in my bedroom, but went in there all the time anyway. I knew it knew it shouldn't be in there because when it would walk in there like it owns the place, I had but to say one word - Cat! - and it came running out. I didn't have to even see it go in there. I could be just about to leave and realize that cat wasn't in my way. Cat! And it came flying out of the room. That's exactly how it got shut in the room all day too. Stupid cat.
"RESCUED" CAT: I got the cats from my step-dad's daughter. She lived on a farm or in a freakishly small town that had cows in it, and apparently was overrun by cats.
