Confession #11: Cat Lady Problems (1 Through 5)

I got 99 problems......and Myrtle is ALL of them. 

In no particular order:

1. Dry winter air.
When you were a kid, did you ever take a balloon and rub it on the carpet and then have fun sticking it to your clothes, or use it to make your hair stand on end?

A cat in winter seems to have the same properties of said balloon.

The other day I had to peel Myrtle off my pants. It was as if each fine hair on her body became a tentacle, ruthlessly grasping fibers of my clothing. The crackle of electricity momentarily silenced Myrtle's hisses of displeasure. I'm fairly certain we generated enough wattage to light a few lamps.

I'm ready to slather that cat in some hydrating lotion. Otherwise, I may show up to work one of these days wearing Myrtle- via the magic that is static cling.

2. Thievery and War Games.
I spend literally HUNDREDS of cents on ear plugs. Myrtle loves to steal them from my night stand and hide them. Until the night comes. And then she hunts them. Loudly. Crashing through the apartment, bouncing off the walls, and howling her fierce feline battle cry. I'm also pretty sure these ear plugs must be some kind of strange living organisms to put up such a fight. And......apparently they breed like rabbits. Having learned my lesson, I keep a pair of ear plugs in a case so Myrtle can't get to them, but I STILL find them all over the place. I throw them away, but they keep showing up....

3. Cat "Empty".
I woke up one morning to Myrtle meowing loudly at the door. Like, really pathetically. As in the echoing wails were trailing off into shaky, shuddering little sobs. Her wee paws reaching, beseechingly, under the door, searching for anyone, ANYONE, who would come to her aid.

"MRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWwwwwww...mew...m-m-m-mew..."

I opened the door and she streaked in, desperately performing several figure eights around my feet. Then, she trotted down the hallway, stopped, looked back. . ."Mew?"

She led me to where the food is. Myrtle sat in front of the bowl, looked up at me, and let out one more big, "MRRRRROOOOOOOWWWWW!" This one more accusing. As in, "I'm starving!! I can't believe you let me go this long without sustenance. Look at this travesty. . . an EMPTY BOWL. . .as empty as your soul, human!"

I looked at the travesty. The "empty" bowl. The bowl was filled to the brim with a ring of food. During the night, she had eaten the middle out of the bowl. And that, my friends, is the definition of cat "empty."

4. Pain.
Myrtle has a Brillo pad tongue she occasionally tries to bathe me with. She seems to think human skin is not clean until she has reached a layer of new skin cells. She also possesses a diabolical knowledge of human anatomy. Especially during the cold, dark, pre-dawn hours. Jump on the kidney. Pounce on the solar plexus. Knead the bladder. .Then it's, "Hey, as long as you're up. . .feed me, pet me, don't pet me, stare at the wall with me, turn on the computer so I can sit on the keyboard. . .NOW." Hiss. Swat.

5. Sneak Attacks.
To prevent sneak attacks from maniacs hiding in the bathroom, I rarely keep the shower curtain closed. However, I made the nearly fatal mistake of pulling it closed one night, and in a fit of movie girl idiocy, I went to investigate strange noises. As I parted the curtain a hissing, clawing maniac came leaping at me. I am now scarred for life. Physically and emotionally. Darn you, Myrtle! Darn you to heck!!!!!

Make no mistake, Myrtle is a wonderful cat. And I fearlove her so much. Myrtle is an adorevil cat. (Thanks to my friend T for coming up with the term "adorevil." There aren't words in the English language to describe Myrtle, so we must create new ones. And, yes, those are my kitty cat jammies. They are freakin awesome, are they not?) 

I will be sharing more Cat Lady Problems in future posts. 

But right now I need to go take care of a pressing Myrtle-related situation.

Confession #10: And, Suddenly, I'm a Money-Loving City Girl

Ever wake up one morning and nearly everything in your life has changed?

As of my last blog post (here) I was on a farm in the middle-of-nowhere-Kentucky, unemployed, broke, and living with the dog, the cat, the cat, the cat, and the cat....

Now, I'm in an apartment in the city, employed, slightly less broke, and living with the dog and the cat. I could only take one cat.

Which cat?

Myrtle, of course. Myrtle wins everything.

The other cats are at the farm with Mom and Dad. I miss them. A lot. They are transitioning to full-time outdoor/barn kitties. . .unless any of you want one of these semi-famous, adorably cute, kind of neurotic cats. . .

Anyhow, we're all settling in. City life is different. But I go where the money is. I love money. You know, so I can buy fun things. Like food. And shelter.


Charlie, who is the most perfect angel dog, has adjusted pretty well to apartment living. Mostly. He misses being able to run free on the farm, but we live in a lovely area and take lots of walks. There are two things we've had to work on, though:

1) I've shared before (here) that Charlie does a fantastic James Earl Jones impression when strangers pass by our door in hotel rooms- a low, imposing rumble. And now, our apartment- every time our neighbors pass by. E.v.e.r.y.t.i.m.e. Sometimes, if the neighbors walk a little too close to our door, Charlie breaks out his pretty darn convincing Cujo.
He does that with the cats, too. But always feels ashamed afterwards.

2) Charlie has a beautiful singing voice. He used to howl along with the occasional siren of passing fire trucks. We now live near a hospital. . .
After several weeks, he now understands that his howls are terrifying to others- and LOUD, the echoes bouncing off the other apartment building as Charlie serenades them from our balcony. So he has learned to ignore them, or sometimes he just softly croons. He has learned the art of dimenuendo.

Myrtle has done surprisingly well. Mostly.

She has me a little worried, though.

Of course, I did my due diligence as I was apartment hunting. When I was checking out my current apartment, I responsibly checked the plumbing, light fixtures, and opened the fridge to make sure there was no Zuul.

But ever since we moved in, Myrtle has been doing some..........creepy...........things.

Everyday, Myrtle spends some time staring at my walk-in closet door. Intently. Completely still. Expectantly.

I hope and pray that it's just Narnia on the other side.

And then there's this:

Last week Myrtle started jumping on the headboard of my bed. In the middle of the night. Right above my head. And stares. And makes a low, guttural sound- not quite a growl, not quite a hiss.

I don't even know what to hope and pray for here.

But most of the time she now pretends to be a real (cat food commercial) cat. All affectionate and cuddly-like. We cozy up all together in front of the fireplace all the time now- I read my book and they snooze.

It's a wonderful life. Change is good. The cat lady continues to be a cat lady. Just a little more catless. For now.