O RLY?

I’ve blogged before about cats mocking you when you do things like cleaning and unpacking, and just general things like cats complicating your life when you’re trying to get shit done. I was cleaning a few days ago, which is a strange occurrence in the first place.

Then this happens:

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So, basically, you’d like me to believe that you’re perfectly comfortable standing in a square inch of space?

I’ve been MIA and for that I apologize.

So, I’ve been in Canada for the last two weeks, which means that I’ve been cat-less for longer than that. Needless to say, my cats haven’t had the chance to be dicks to me. Instead, they’ve been dicks to their cat-sitters, and their cat-sitters haven’t emailed me about their dick-ish behavior, so therefore I have nothing to report to any of you. For what it’s worth though, I did harass my grandmother’s cat while I was out of the country, and that cat hated it.

HOWEVER, I do have this feel-good, sappy, nearing-Disney-movie-status-type news story to share with the three people that read this blog regularly.

Apparently this stray cat that lives in Massachusetts literally spent an entire week in a tree before it decided that plummeting 80 feet to the ground sounded like a better idea. Seriously, people tried rescuing it a few times, but because ALL CATS ARE DICKS, the cat refused to be rescued, which only meant that firefighters would have to cut the branch down to save it.

Long story short, firefighters cut said branch down, and the world is amazed that a cat survived an 80 foot drop. I have four points to make about this story, and they are as follows: 1. Cats always land on their feet. 2. Cats are always dicks, so duh, you were going to have to pry that dumbass out of the tree. 3. I’m a little upset that this story was the most interesting story that popped up when I googled “Cat News” today. SHIT. 4. To the person that commented, “People that let cats poop in their house are weird,” on the article…thank you.

So you’re thinking of fostering kittens…..AHAHAHAHA YOU FUCKING IDIOT.

A few months ago I decided to join the local humane society’s foster program. If you’re not familiar with what it means to be an animal shelter foster parent, basically you take on pets that are too young or sick to be adopted and you take care of them until they are either rehabilitated or old enough to find a permanent home. So I figured I love animals, I’d like to help out the shelter but don’t have time to volunteer, and I have the perfect space to house animals and keep them separate from my own cats (a sunroom at the back of my house).

Besides all that, I figured kittens would be easy. I know how to care for cats, I thought….why would caring for kittens be much more difficult than making sure my own cats didn’t die? In fact, I reasoned it had to be easier than caring for my own cats, since like humans cats become more evil with age. In my head, I knew it would be perfect…. imagined long Saturday afternoons filled with purrs and sweet little cat babies lounging in the sun and looking very silly whilst chasing ribbons and sunbeams.

I am a stupid, stupid woman.

The first batch of foster kittens were three siblings, and to be honest they weren’t that bad. They did cute things like this:

oh my precious

And this:

there are too many books on the kitty shelf! oh noes!

But they got bigger, and consequently went back to the shelter where they were all adopted and went on to forever homes where they will grow into cats that will someday terrorize their forever families. DAWWWW!

With the next round of fosters, I’ve discovered a rather disconcerting fact. The reason why kittens are so sweet and non-destructive comes from the simple fact that they are small and defenseless. As such, it’s necessary for them to befriend you so that they are afforded some sense of protection until they are older and larger and develop bigger claws and more hateful dispositions. Basically, kittens are just manipulative little bastards that use you to keep them alive and clean up after them, much like babies. With the second batch, I took on nine foster kittens and learned that with their powers combined…they no longer need to be my friend. Like an angry mob armed with endless mews and tiny claws, they’ve overtaken and destroyed everything in their path.

LET US OUT OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES OF DESTROYED BOOKS AND POOPS ON THE FLOOR

Since there are so many of them, they’ve become emboldened enough to undertake escape attempts. Like the velociraptors in “Jurassic Park”, they try to open the doors:

Clever girl.

You can’t walk past the sunroom door without being assailed by taunts and demands:

pssst. PSSSST. I pooped on the bookshelf.

If you are stupid enough to enter the room and attempt contact, you’ll likely find yourself in this situation after being climbed like fucking Mount Everest:

How can a cat be only 6 inches tall, yet somehow always have its ass right in your face??

They’ve shredded books. They’ve eaten photographs. They’ve thrown up in their own food bowls and sprayed diarrhea all over the floor right next to their box. Every attempt to enter the room is met with an attempt to escape, usually accomplished by three scaling your legs while the others flee and hide under beds and couches. But there is a silver lining, my friends….

These kittens are healthy and old enough for adoption and are going back to the humane society. After a long and arduous six weeks, it is time for them to find their forever homes, filled with new people that they can forever torture. After tomorrow, I am taking a break from fostering since I plan to be traveling for the holidays and besides that, holy shit I need a break. The nightmare will be over. I will get my sunroom back and it will just be me and my three…..fully grown…….much larger and able to do much more damage….pissed off from lack of attention….holding a grudge and anxiously awaiting the departure of the kittens before they exact their revenge….my own cats….

oh fuck.

Shameless.

Cats have no shame, and neither do I, because that is definitely a pair of my underwear around his neck.

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This wasn’t a planned photo either, which is hilarious. I just tossed them on my bed and that’s how they landed. It’s like throwing horseshoes…but with cats.

SXSW recap.

So, I didn’t get out of bed this weekend. Blame the time change. Blame my ability to hibernate. Blame the amount of weirdos in town for SXSW…do whatever you need to do.

If I didn’t get out of bed, you can just about bet my assholes of cats saw no reason to get out of bed either, even though there was plenty of laundry to do. I was reminded that I don’t live in a Disney movie and these animals are not my servants and they basically serve me no actual purpose…except for blog content. Here’s my SXSW recap in photos.

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Browning had had enough by Sunday morning and sat on my chest until I moved.

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Excited for SXSW 2013.

–Catherine

Duvet covers and cats are the bane of my existence.

If you know only one thing about life, it’s that duvet covers are bigger dicks than cats. The comforter never fits right. It always starts sliding around NO MATTER HOW TIGHT YOU TIE THOSE TIES. They’re just really goddamn stupid and I break a sweat every time I put one on my comforter.

I tell you that, to tell you this. When you throw cats into the goddamn mix, shit gets infinitely more difficult.

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Cats are born, and live their entire stupid cat lives, thinking humans exist solely to entertain them, feed them, and buy them things. Everything we own is theirs. Everything we own will be played with/in/on/under/over/next to, to include duvet covers.

It’s cool guys. I definitely bought you a new place to sit your fat cat asses, and not a duvet cover for my bed.

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–Catherine