Cat Day 2010

Jesus Christ cats.

I could say that 37 times and it still would not be enough.

It's been a long 24 hours.

First: cats sleeping in my hallway overnight so I can take them over my mom's in the morning. The (super adorable holy crap so cute EXCEPT that it's 3am in the morning) meowing and squeaking to get out. Then the sudden explosion of noise that made me and Fran & Zooey almost shit ourselves in the middle of our sleep when one of them knocked my window frame over and somehow it managed to frame them when falling without actually falling on anyone.

Up at 1am. 2:30am. 3am. Pretty much up from 3am til 5:30am. Up again at 6am. Then glorious sleep til 7. So something like a total of 3, despite the fact that that math probably added up to more BUT I'M TIRED PEOPLE SO FUCK MATH.

Then the madness of driving them in the world's most gargantuan cat carrier over to my mom's (the thing looks like it could fit Free Willy, I'm telling you).

The little grey kitten is so freaked out in the car that she's panting.

Then my mom's and the realization that the grey kitten has never had a reason to know what a window is and thus KEEPS JUMPING INTO THE GLASS 'CAUSE SHE THINKS IT'S FREEDOM FROM THE SERVITUDE OF THE INDOORS.

Flash forward and she's somehow managed to wedge herself under my mom's radiator for a couple hours. And then wedges herself an hour later into an even SMALLER space behind a different radiator.

Finally I leave feeling like I just dropped my kids off at college, one of them wedged firmly behind the (college?) radiator.

Good times.

Come home. Decide to pack up one of the cat shelters for storage. Pick it up not thinking HEY A CAT MIGHT BE IN there, and Outdoor Kitty leapsdropsfalls to the ground to limp away with what holy fuck looks like a broken leg or hip. Thankfully after the initial freakout he walks it off. I hope. Will have to check on him later.

My very sweet downstairs neighbor appears at her door in the squishiest giant slippers to ask the neighborhood cat lady (aka me) if I could give her a tutorial on how to cut her kitten's nails sometime later this weekend. I agree and she squeals when she finds out my mom adopted the kittens finally.

Still nothing to eat. Blood jittering with coffee and a couple nervous cigarettes and I stop for a quick grocery shopping spree before it's time to return home and let in Scabs (and no worries: I've settled on a less scatological and more Salingerian name for her in keeping with Franny & Zooey--Esme--though I still have yet to use it) for a dry-run with the cats. Who are currently glaring at her. And growling at her. And avoiding her. And glaring at her.

And my ex E says I have at least a week's worth of hissing and violent cat-fights to look forward to.

Hurray.

Still trying to line up a back-up adoptee just in case.

Want an adorably neurotic cat of your own? Holler.

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