Blown Fuse

Little fucker.

Remember what I said about Puffy and the carpet?

Well, she found it.

Scott must have a great deal more patience than I realized, because if it were just up to me the cat would be gone.

Jealous much?

This is a picture of Puffy Savage stalking the cardboard I laid down over her most recent toilet location. Nosy bitch.

Scott took Puffy to the vet this morning for her vaccines and such and consulted with the doctor on her recent behavior. As this was a different vet than the one who treated her last year, I suppose she was coming at it from a fresh perspective.

She suggested that Puffy may be marking her territory. While I do believe Puffy is extremely territorial (you should see what happens when Bodie jumps up into Puffy's windowsill - fur flies), I didn't believe that there would be territory issues inside the house that would make her do that. The vet believes that the neighborhood strays that send Puffy scampering from one window to the next are the cause for her "accidents." The theory is that she doesn't believe those cats are NOT going to come into the house, so she's marking portals to keep them away.

The incidents do seem to line up. Puffy hasn't peed anywhere but behind the door and at the window (yet), and these incidents did occur after we spotted a stray in our yard. The vet recommended we buy some Feliway to clean up the areas she's gone in (maybe I'll be able to move her food bowl from out of the traffic area afterwards). I don't know how we can prevent her from marking the carpet in front of the French doors, though. Seems strange she hasn't gone there yet (or has she?).

Yeah, we'll see.

Patience of Job.

The piss smell has returned. Puffy has an appointment to see the vet on Saturday morning to get her annual rabies shot, so I hope the situation can be resolved once and for all then.

This really bothers me, because yesterday I found out that our neighbor at the end of the street has a son the same age as ours. I've planned to go on a neighborhood walk with the wife and kiddo tomorrow, and when she stops by I won't even be able to invite her in because the smell is localized in the room where the front door is. I'm trying my damndest to figure out where the deposit is this time, but I'm so mad at this cat that I could scream. Out of all the shelter cats that I could have picked, how dd I end up with one with urinary problems? And a frickin' KITTEN at that?

Further, I'm planning some playdates for young'uns Roland's age in the next several weeks. This house needs to be pretty damn close to immaculate, or at least smell like it. I don't want people thinking we live like slobs. God, I just want to get a pot of cold water and douse her with it. Maybe that'll knock some sense into her fuzzy little head. She doesn't get that I'M the dominant cat in this house.

*points to end of rope*

Remember last month when I said something smelled like cat piss? Found it. It seems that Puffy Savage (who is yet one more step closer to permanent residence in the garage) has been using the front door mat as a piss pad. She was found out yesterday while being seen scratching the mat like litter. Scott pulled the rug up and put it in the laundry room, but I guess some of the wetness seeped through to the wood floor. I sprayed it with enzyme cleaner yesterday and cleaned it up. When Scott got home in the evening, he commented on how the floor seemed sticky there. I assumed it was residual cleaner there and left it be.

Guess what the front room smelled like again when I woke up this morning. Yep. Cat piss. The smell is gone now (from that specific corner) because I went and sprayed the entire area again. Every time I walk over there, Puffy appears from whichever hole she's been hiding in and watches me from the kitchen. She's lurking so she can go handle her business on my floor as soon as I turn my back.

The last time this happened (in the kitchen), we solved the problem by putting her food bowl on top of the suspect area. I obviously can't do that behind the door.

Don't know what to do. I'm having a real love-hate-hate relationship with this cat right now. The worst part is I still smell a faint piddle smell in the general environs of my desk...I've gotten down on my hands and knees and put my nose to the floor but can't quite find it. I guess when we take her into the vet to get her rabies shot we can question why she's being such a fucking little bitch (so that we can pay to have her piss analyzed again). The last thing I want to have is for my kid to start crawling in the next couple of months and land himself in a dried-up mess of cat yuck.

I'm considering ordering this stink finder from PetSmart, but part of me is afraid of what other stains I might find on my floors and furniture.

sniff. sniff.

Something in this house smells like cat piss, and Scott thinks I'm losing my mind. If I were losing my mind, wouldn't I be smelling it all over the house? I'm only sensing it in the hallway right beneath the attic hatch and in the front room where my damn desk is.

I swear, if one of these cats (PUFFY, I'M LOOKING AT YOU!) has crawled behind a bookcase or on top of an air vent to do her business I'm going to flip a lid.

I have no problem with cleaning up cat accidents within reason, but when I can't find them, I can't even do anything to cover the odor up.

I'm going to go sniff some things and see where this stink is marinating. Wish me luck.

It's good exercise.

The cats have been beating the shit out of each other for the past fifteen minutes or so. There's so much fur flying in the air that I'm almost tempted to grab a trash bag and go on hair reconnaissance...almost. No joke - there's so much cat fur about that when the heat comes on, the air vents push it around the room. It sticks together like tumbleweeds, but floats like bubbles.

It's a good thing they don't fight at like that at night because the sound of 35+ pounds of cat banging against the floors or walls would be enough to make me wet the bed at 2 in the morning.

I just realized that through all the cat fighting, I didn't move a single millimeter to break it up. Hmm. I suppose that makes me a bad cat-momma. T'oh well. *whistles nonchalantly*

Damn zoo.

These cats. Oh, these cats. They're becoming increasingly wanton in their disregard of boundaries. As cute as they are, my tolerance is diminishing exponentially by the day.

The only reason I've been able to tolerate Puffy's idiocy of using my furniture as playground equipment has been in knowing that good ol' Bodie keeps her furry ass where she's supposed to.

Not so much anymore. Twice today (that I've witnessed), Bodie has climbed on the kitchen table, lying at the edge as if she were settling in to observe the goings-on of the front of the house. I shouted some obscenities at her and she scampered, twice. She'll return, I'm sure.

Puffy will actually sit and have a conversation with you when you're shooing her. She was on top of my curio table yesterday, and in a very "bad cat!" voice I told her to get down at least three times. Each time she held her ground and responded with "Meow?" She knew I was breastfeeding the kid and wasn't going to get up to chase her.

I wish there was some way for me to sequester them into just one or two rooms with a sliding door or something. When the kid starts crawling, I'm going to have to either keep him in his room and allow the cats to roam freely, or take the more common sensical approach and put the cats somewhere else and let the human being move about without being contaminated by cat hair on his onesie. Hmm, what to do...

Go pick it up. NOW.

Why do these things happen ONLY when I'm at home watching? You would think that having two cats means that you'd leave the house and occasionally return to a mess. That rarely happens. Instead, they'll ransack the house while I watch.

This overturned chair fell in this position about five minutes ago. Bodie was sitting on the back, and Puffy took a flying leap at her. When the chair started teeter-tottering, I just knew it was going to slap the floor. And it did, taking the much-abused remote control with it. Bodie scrambled to the living room where she took up position to lick herself. Puffy ran into the kitchen.

I'm still waiting for them to pick it up. Little brats. As they scratched at the bedroom door all night and meowed like they were in pain, I'm already thisclose to dousing them with cold water as it is.

The Grid

Here's a picture of the kitty booby trap I have set up on the kitchen table. You can probably tell that they're using the table as a perch to look outside. I think the window sill has been adequate for that purpose and they should continue using it for such.

The premise behind the tape is that cats don't like the feeling of having sticky stuff on their paws so they'll avoid the tape by avoiding the table. Furthermore, any cat dumb enough to sit her fat rear on the table will find that when they stand they'll lose a few hundred hairs. Since I don't have to be in the room to monitor them, they won't associate ME with the punishment when it happens. They'll think the table is doing it to them.

Hopefully, after a couple of weeks they'll get the point that their butts do not belong where I eat.

That must be tasty.

I've observed this weird behavior from our junior cat, Puffy. When she and Bodie are going to blows, she likes to bite Bodie on the neck or rump. But these aren't just bites to break skin - she's trying to pull hair, which she promptly spits out.

Look, at this point in my pregnancy, I could care less if they maul each other. JUST DON'T FRICKING LEAVE HAIR PILES ON THE CARPET I VACUUMED YESTERDAY.

Seriously, this cat is driving me nuts. So much so that I want to throw cat toys at her head. Between the hair-eating, the inappropriate pee locations, the wood chewing, and the periodic vomit piles, I'm ready to...well, let her explore the great outdoors.

I'm sure she feels irreplacable, but you know what? I was in Petsmart on Sunday, and they had at LEAST three grey kittens with yellow eyes. Yup.

Damn Cat.

Second verse, same as the first. A little bit pissier, a little more work.

*scratch scratch* GET OUT!

You know, until last night I hadn't had a decent night of sleep since we got back from vacation. It seems that if you kick the fucking cats out of the room, and therefore your bed, that you can actually sleep in positions that allow for blood circulation.

Now they're hovering and waiting for food. Good. I'm in control again.

Scott, you'd better come get YOUR cat.

I'm really getting to the end of my rope with this cat. Puffy, I mean.

If you recall, I was having some problems with her going outside the box a couple of weeks ago. I took her to the vet who asked that we gather a urine sample for her.

The next morning when I fed them, I sequestered Puffy in the empty bedroom (the one designated for my child who will neatly pee and poop in a diaper) with a clean litter box sprinkled with the special litter bits the vet game me. She immediately piddled, and I woke Scott up to collect them. At that point, the very thought of cat urine made me barf.

Scott dropped the piddle off at the vet's office on his way to work, and she called me a couple hours later. Obviously, there were some crystals in her pee that are associated with either a metabolism problem that cat's may get at anytime in life or possibly a kidney problem. She prescribed a chewable pill and had us take another sample collection cup so that she could see if the meds made a difference after a few days.

When we took the new pee sample back in - lo and behold - the crystals were gone. I had been shoving Puffy through the kitty door into the laundry room to make sure she pissed and crapped where she was supposed to JUST IN CASE. She'd already shit (shat? shut? shitted?) in a sickly palm plant I've had since college and in the recycling bin.

The vet told us to finish out the last few pills, which lasted until Monday, I think, and watch her for the rest of the week. She'd been doing great - other than sneezing the hugest snot wad all over herself and our bed last night prompting me to wash the comforther AGAIN - she's been on her p's and q's.

This morning I woke up thinking about some Pillsbury cinnamon rolls, and fed the cats before going out to get the paper. I thought to myself as I poured the kibble, "Why does it smell so sour in here? We had pizza last night...it's not like there's any raw chicken parts in the trash."

So, I fed the furry heathens, washed my hands, and was about to move my favorite tote bag, my jumbo WUNC radio one that'll cost me $500 in pledge support by the end of the year. I love that fucking bag. Loved rather.

It had been the bag I take to work to tote my purse, lunch, paperwork, knitting, trashy magazines, etc. I had it hanging on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

Well, last night, a certain cat - most likely the one that does NOT weigh 20 pounds because that would have knocked the whole damn contraption (chair + cat +piss bag) to the floor - climbed into it and took a piss of monumental volume.

I was so so mad that I was seething. It's in the washing machine right now. The bag, not the cat. Hopefully, after 2 or 3 washes I'll still love enough to use it and the canvas won't be bleached out on the bottom.

You know, at first, I felt sorry for her. "Poor kitty, it must hurt so bad for you to pee." Now I'm pissed at her AND the fucking vet who knew that taking her off the pills would cause the problem, WHICH SHE SAID THE CAT WOULD PROBABLY HAVE TO BE MEDICATED FOR FOREVER, to return shortly. "Watch her," she said, as she thought of the $30 we'd have to pay to come in for a SECOND follow-up.

I'M SO PISSED THAT I'M CONTEMPLATING PUTTING THE CAT OUT IN THE GARAGE. I may be ragey and hormonal from being pregnant, but for the love or God - I can't even touch my feet anymore. Like hell if I'm going to follow this cat around the house in search of bathroom indiscretions.

That'll learn her.

Fucking cat just jumped in the toilet. Not on the toilet. Not on top of the toilet. In. As compulsion rather than logic is her greatest-occuring trait, Puffy jumps on things without determining whether they're sound for climbing. She scampers up your leg and uses your waistband as a ledge to claw herself up your back.

I was in the bathroom for two seconds - just lon enough to put the elastic tie back in my hair. Before I know it, I see a blur of grey and hear "splash!" Apparently, she misjudged the fact that sometimes there's a hole in the toilet seat, and fell butt-in, knocking down all the crap on top of the toilet tank in the process. Good thing I cleaned the damn thing last week.

Now the shower curtain's all wet, the wall is wet, all my hand towels are wet, and her bottom half is wet. I chased her down and gave her a vigorous rub with the "cat" towel, which she didn't appreciate. oh well.

The audacity!

Why would a cat have the audacity to audibly whine whenever you try to remove her fat ass from your chair? Your own personal chair - the one that is permeated with your scent because you spend 50% of your home hours in it?

The thing is, if I take the cushion out of the chair, she'll stay off...but man, if this chair isn't hard as a brick. I just want to be able to sit in my desk chair. The whole seat. Right now, I have about half cheek hangng off because Puffy won't get from behind me.

I'll try hissing at her. See if that works...

Puffy, I want to ... grr!

Puffy Savage is dangerously close to eviction. Most of the time, I love my cats almost as much as I'd love my own child, but this week she's been taxing my nerves.

On Wednesday, Scott sent me a cryptic email at work telling me to call him because he needed to tell me something.

Turned out that one of the cats had been using the recycling bin in the kitchen as a litter box. She had left a great pyramid of poop on top of a stack of newspapers. Scott cleaned it up, and as we had no evidence of the true culprit I naturally assumed it was Bodie trying to mark her territory.

I'm glad I was in the kitchen this morning eating my once/week breakfast. I had fed the cats and about ten minutes later while I was eating my Fruity Pebbles, I hear a scratching sound coming from the living room. The sort of scratching that is normally associated with a cat covering litter. I heave my fat ass out of my hard chair and do a sprint (as much as a lazy pregnant woman can sprint) to the living room. Puffy, who had been eyeballing Bodie's bed after breakfast for which I had chastised her (because Bodie don't play that) had went back to the bed to take a leak. She also made a nice little trail of pee around the bed and on the fucking rug.

As much as I want to whip her ass right now, I'm exercising great restraint.

I called the vet to see if I could get her seen today, but they're booked solid, so we'll just have to keep a watchful eye on her until Monday, especially after meals.

Meanwhile, I'm going to go buy her a larger litter box to see if that rectifies the problem. If it's an issue of Bodie terrorizing her out of the laundry room altogether, I don't know what I'm going to do. There's nowhere else in the house that we can put a litter box discretely. If it's a territory issue and Puffy is afraid to go near Bodie's box (they have separate boxes), we might have to put up one of those toddler restraining walls to provide at least an illusion of different areas...I hope that the larger box will solve the problem, though. She's been using the same little box since she was 3 months old.

Too cute for words.

How cute is it that Puffy follows Bodie around so she can take a nap with her? Bodie is annoyed. Puffy is oblivious.

Squeeee!

My cats are so damn cute - cuter than all other cats, in fact. They're so cute that I carry around their pictures in my digital camera to show to various coworkers who all go "Squeeeee! That's adorable!" and tickle the air with their fingers as if there was a cat there to tickle.

Five minutes ago, Bodie came into the room whining with a cat toy stuffed in her mouth - that's how she tells me she wants to play.

I obliged her by tossing the toy down the hall into Scott's office. She was off like a rocket. After several tosses from both directions, the toy lands in the general vicinity of the guest bedroom door, behind which is where Puffy Savage is being kept on lockdown until she learns to chill. Like a flash, a little grey paw shot out under the door and swatted the toy down the hall. Scared the shit out of me, but damned if it wasn't cute! Bodie doesn't want to play anymore.

Chew Toy

Last night I tried to be a fair and equitable kitty momma by letting Puffy Savage have a chance to sleep at the foot of our bed. Bodie normally navigates the slumber ship from there, but Bodie also won't meow and scratch at the door all night if we don't let her in.

I put Bodie out, Fred Flintstone style, brought Puffy in, and closed the door. Scott was incredibly frightened that Puffy would take a massive shit somewhere in our environs, but lo - she didn't have the chance.

I had been asleep for 15 minutes when I was awoken by cat teeth on my earlobe. I thought I was dreaming that fly was buzzing around my ear. I swatted it away. Again, I felt the gnawing. Puffy was chewing on my earring, and by de facto, my cartilage as well. I picked her scrawny little kitten ass up and closed her back in the guest room.

Five minutes later, Bodie resumed her normal spot on the bed.

She just ain't ready.

How to shut 'em up.

The setting: Tiffany stands in kitchen, lazily dunking a tea bag in a cup of hot water. An overweight cat with desire in her eyes circles Tiffany's legs, begging for food.

Tiffany (to cat): I would like to eat something, too. Are you going to make me breakfast?
Bodie Cat: Mrew. (walks away)

Try it.

Mommy, I'm cold!

S'all good. I picked Puffy up from APS at 5 on the dot. She appeared to be visibily annoyed at seeing me. She's normally a very vocal kitty, so the very quiet drive home was creepy. She's in her bedroom eating kibble now. A brief cuddle and a kiss on the nose seemed to fix things well. If you maximize the picture, you'll see the smiley face tattoo the vet tech applied after surgery.

Puffy's Big Day

7:26 and I sit here at the helm typing a blog post. Normally at this hour I'd be making a hot cup of something at the office and preparing for the day's drudge. Otherwise, it'd be a weekend and I'd be knocked-da-fuck-out.

Puffy Savage has to be at the animal shelter between 8 and 8:30 for her surgery. When I woke up this morning and pulled out the little appointment reminder slip I read for the first time that she wasn't supposed to have food between 10 last night up to now.....oops.

I mean, what's the worst that could happen, she'll poo a little or throw up? I have her a quarter cup of kibble last night at around 7 and she ate about half. I would guess that she ate it yesterday.....but I can't be sure.

Shit, now I'm worried.

*lick*

Here's Kitty Jr., or formally Puffy Savage, checking for privacy before she commences to "bathe" herself.

I have to take her to be spayed tomorrow. The poor thing...I feel sorry for her. When I brought Bodie home from the shelter, they had spayed her on the same day. We've had Puffy at home for a couple of months now. I'll hate to hand her over to be operated on.

*snuggle*

Ew!

Did you know that a cat will eat wax that has been scratched from its own ear?

Witnessed it.

Gratuitous Kitty Shots

I couldn't resist.

Here's Puffy Savage (she has a bit of a kitty cold):

And here's Bodie (she's on a diet):

Such a happy furry family.

Ole Meanie

Cat people, I need some help. Bodie is being a absolute beeeyotch about the new kitten. She's even attacking me for smelling like her. I doused her with half a bottle of water some minutes ago for trying to attack me, and even soaking wet she's sitting here stalking the bedroom door where I have Puff locked in.

I've read so many different opinions on the internet about how to introduce two cats. Those of you who've been through it (successfully), what did you do?

I'm so pissed off at Bodie that I dumped the food in her bowl in the trash...oh, and she cares, the fat-ass.

It's a girl!

Her name is Puffy Savage - Puff for short.

Her big sister is not amused and is spending a great deal of time hissing at the guest room door where I have her sequestered.

She's 12 weeks old and spunky as heck. She's grey like Bodie and still has a big kitten head.

*whistles innocently*

Hee hee hee, I'm getting another cat!!!

Just push.

It was time for me to reclaim my guest bedroom. The cat had been using it as her own personal master suite, lounging on the bed on her own set of sheets and taking massive dumps in the litterbox. We put the litterbox in there when we polyurethaned the floor in the living room, knowing that we would have to find a permanent location for it.

Well, I had the bright idea to install a pet door in the laundry room door. That way, she could go into a secluded area to do her business and not stink up the whole damned house.

Well, if you look at that picture from the right angle, the red circle is pointing out the cat. In the laundry room.

She hasn't quite figured out how the door works yet. She knows that she can go through the opening when we hold the flap open for her, but as soon as it gets put down she can't figure out that if she puts her weight against it she can get out.

She's gotten out 3 or 4 times "accidentally" - her scratching at the door to escape and actually leaning against the flap. She hasn't figured out that the door is two ways and that she can purposefully open it.

We might have to lock her in there every day before we leave until she figures it out.

She SHIT in the box.

And peed, too. That's normally what you expect of your cat, however NOT when said box is her carrier.

I took Bodie to PetSmart this afternoon to get her daggers trimmed. I knew it was time because yesterday she took a swipe at me and her nails cut into the thick skin of my palm 1/16 of an inch and pulled a chunk of skin off. It took me five minutes to get her into her carrier today.

When we got to PetSmart and she was put up on the grooming table she was fine. She was timid, obviously, but she didn't try to EAT the groomer as she does me when I try to cut her nails.

When I put her back into the car, no sooner had I pulled the seatbelt over the carrier than she began taking a huge, wet crap.

*sigh*

I thought maybe she had farted. I rolled down the window and kept going, but the smell got stronger.

I rushed to get the carrier across the threshold to let her out and saw that she had indeed soiled the towel I use to pad the carrier (now in the trash).

Bad Bodie.

I just find that strange. True, she's an indoor cat and doesn't get to see much of the outside world, but I'm disappointed that she'd think I'd let her get hurt.

Now my car smells like a diaper.

Jaws of Life

Is there a certain age that cats are supposed to get to that they stop gnawing on you? I'm just wondering, because Bodie has the tendency to aim for the fleshiest parts of my body (like that web between my thumb and forefinger) and lock her jaws shut onto them.

I care about my pet's health.

I sent off for a quote for pet insurance from Pets Health Care Plan (the policy that advertises with Garfield the cat) and was quoted $284.76 if I paid in quarterly installments. Bodie is a 2 1/2 year old cat with no obvious impediments and she never goes outdoors. She's laying on a towel on the bed behind me right now. Sleeping. Exposing herself.

I don't forsee there being any disasters so I asked for a quote that would pay for yearly shots, but not for things like flea dips and nail trims.

Anybody out there in Blogland have pet insurance? If so, through who? Is it worth it?

Silly Bodie.

My cat just ate a bug.

Ha ha!

My favorite thing are the little grasshopper legs all over the house.

AwwWWWww

The cat eats my hand with such tenderness. She wraps her little arms around my wrist and draws my hand into her mouth without ever unsheathing her nails. The fact that she's chewing on my skin in the first place is another issue altogether.

Under Foot

The cat chooses the strangest times to exhibit weird cat tendencies such as stalking.

For example: this evening as I was doing my yoga, Bodie decided that my feet are the perfect moving playthings.

Imagine me standing on one leg like a flamingo trying to hold a pose and having a cat nibble at my toes and ankles.

That took some serious chi, folks.

"NO! NO NO NO NO, NOT THERE!"

I'm exercising some real tolerance, y'all.

This damned cat is cute, and all, but she likes my door frames. She likes them so much that she wants to stretch against them and scratch them.

Fortunately for us her nails are clipped too short to do any damage.

Fortunately for her she has a super-tall scratching post to do her business on.

Unfortunately for her, if she doesn't get WISE to the scratching post, she'll be facing the wrath of my brand new $0.99 water gun.

Y'all better tell her something.

My poor little schnookums.

I got up early today and took Bodie for a introductory vet appointment. Poor thing has an ear infection. Her paperwork when I got her from the shelter said that she had been treated for ear mites in her left ear, which is why I needed to take her to the vet to start with--to make sure they didn't come back.

Well, she doesn't have mites, but her ear canal is so imflamed that the doc couldn't get the scope in far enough to see whether her ear drum had a rip in it.

I have to administer oral antibiotics to her for a week and do a folllow-up visit on Tuesday afternoon to make sure she's responding well.

Oh well. Good news is that she's gained 10 ounces in the past 11 days.

*lick lick sneeze*

I think my cat is a person. I swear. I can tell that she's just itching to say "I'm only in the body until I get my human skin out of the dry cleaners."

Yes, catblogging.

[To the tune of Phoebe Buffay's "Smelly Cat"]

Needy cat, needy cat.
Why are you following me?

Needy cat, needy cat.
Can't I go pee?

My cat is either seriously attention-starved or very needy. She won't play with toys, so I don't know what the hell she did all day when I was gone at work. She's only content when she's laying on you. Yes, that is cute, but is it necessary for her to begin her lengthy licking ritual while perched on my stomach?

Yesterday she was still groggy from the anestesia. Today she's meowing at me whenever I put her down. She followed me to my computer and is now staring at me pitifully as I type. If I look at her, she makes this pitiful sound of betrayal.

*sigh*

Now she's under the bed sneezing. She likes dust a lot.

Okay, cat people: when is she going to stop being so needy? She's unbelieveably cute, but I'd like to read a book or knit something.

Bodie

We'll get a photo with flash as soon as she gets over her scaredy-cattiness.

Kitty Wonton

And so the obsession begins.

I made a knitted kitty wonton, complete with a sprinkling of catnip.

In all, it took a couple of hours to make. I think maybe I'll make the eggroll, too.

Yep

At exactly 11 a.m., I bolted out the door from work and drove to the APS to see if the cat in cage G21 had been claimed. When I went into the room, I couldn't see her. She wasn't huddled in the corner like she was last time. So, I did what any other insane person would do: I started baby-talking the cage. A few seconds later a little mound under a towel began to move. One eye then the other found their way to the gap and when she saw there was an idiot there making funny noises, she pulled her head out and put the side of her face against the cage. Maybe she recognized the smell of my perfume.

I waited in a visiting room that reeked of bleach (Parvo disinfection) for about ten minutes before someone brought the cat out to meet me. She was timid, but once she had four feet on the ground she was fine. She bent into my hand as I rubbed her head and did general exploration of the room. I noticed that she felt very thin--I could feel her rib cage just beneath her fur.

Whenever someone walked a dog past the door, she tried to hide beneath the bench, but let me pick her up to hold her. She didn't claw me or try to bite me when I rubbed them like at least 7 of my mother's 8 cats of the past (ill-mannered little mongrels). She's such a sweet cat. I hope she doesn't become a diva when she gets a whole house to herself.

I paid the deposit and requested flea and tick treatment. As soon as they spay her we can go pick her up.

I fear that I'll become an obsessive Cat-Momma...I might even buy a cat condo. And a collar with rhinestones.