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 #9: The Cat Lady Dates....Or Not. I Am Selective.

Quitting singledom for love and companionship is great and all, but sometimes I want to quit being single just so I don't have to be single and deal with dating. It is a lot of work. A lot of awkward, awkward work. 

I know that holds true for most single people. 

But....

Think first dates are awkward? Try being a cat lady on a first date. 

Things always start off so well....and then....

Man: So, tell me a little more about yourself. Hobbies? Interests?

Me: Well, I love to read. Mostly mysteries. And Jane Austen. And Harry Potter.

Man: My dear lady, I ardently admire and love Harry Potter books. 

Me: You are freakin awesome. 

Man: Thank you.

Me: I also love animals. I have a giant Golden Retriever.

Man: Dogs are cool. Especially big dogs. Any dog less than 50 pounds isn't even a real dog.

Me: Oh, my gosh! I always tell people the same thing! Let's see....what else? Oh, I have cats.

Man: You have a cat?

Me: No, I have cats. Catssssssss.

Man: How many? Two?

Me: Uh, more.

Man: Three?

Me: *cough* More.

Man: What? Like, ten?

Me: No, no, I'm not a crazy cat lady. Four. Just four cats. Only four.

This is the critical juncture of this cat lady's first date. Man's response to my response to The Question: How many cats do you have? 

This will determine if there is any future for Man and me.

Examples of "No Future" responses:

Pained silence.

"Uh, um, wow, uh. Sooooooo....look at the time."

"I'm allergic to cats."

"Cats are evil."

Examples of "There will probably be a 2nd date" responses:

"I'm cool with that. Four isn't even that many."

"Do you want to see some funny cat memes?"

"Hey, I've got four cats, too! We could totally Brady Bunch this thing."

"Cats are evil- we should go look at some kittens after dinner."

Now, should we continue courting, Man will need to understand a few more things. 

-If I have fixed him a delicious meal and he happens upon a random cat hair, he should calmly remove it and keep eating. Or eat it and experience cat-like stealth and an enormous sense of superiority for the next 24-hours. You are what you eat.

-Should we be cuddled on the couch watching Harry Potter movies and the phone rings or the pan of brownies in the oven finishes baking, the person with the least amount of cats in his or her lap is responsible for getting up.

-Should Man find that a cat has puked on his shoe, the only acceptable response is to mutter, "Jerk cat," and ask for a paper towel. Cat puke happens.

-Man must learn that there is NO substituting of the established brands of kibble and litter. NONE. Any deviation will result in excessive complaining and severe punishment. From the cats. Not me. 

-Man must master the delicate- and somewhat dangerous- art of cat petting.

-In direct relation to the aforementioned, Man must have a high threshold of pain.

And, finally....

-Man must lovingly temper my crazy cat lady tendencies OR lovingly go all out and join me. We could be one of those Hollywood-type power couples, like Brangelina- adopting cats from all over the world. We would be amazing. Or crazy. 

We would be cramazing. 

But, before all this cramazingness can happen, I guess I just need to keep slogging through the awkwardness of dating to find Man. Not that I'm in a huge rush to run out and get married or anything. In spite of the awkward dating parts, being single is fun, too.

On the other hand, my next birthday officially puts me closer to 40 than 30. I don't know if I can handle that many cats on my own....