Tag Archives: Cats

Shirts

Aoife, my cat, was recently spayed. That means she has to wear an Elizabethan collar (E-collar, Cone of Shame, whatever). She¬†hates it. She can’t see what’s going on around her and it freaks her right the fuck out. As such, she refuses to be more than a few feet from me or my husband. If she can be in our laps, she will be. Any noise at all makes her flinch so damn hard. It’s more than a little concerning since she’s normally not so skittish.

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Instead of the cone, we are going to try baby shirts. She won’t be able to get at her incision and she’ll be able to see what’s going on around her. Most cats wear size 0-3 months, but Aoife’s pretty skinny, so even the small stuff is too big on her. In addition, the thrift shop I plundered didn’t have much in that size, anyway. Thus, she is wearing TWO shirts. Isn’t she cute?

She is so angry at me, but she can’t figure out how to move in the shirt, yet. As such, she’s just laying there, squirming and rocking back and forth. I can just imagine her like, “Mom, this is such bullshit! I swear to god, you are SO DEAD as soon as I figure out how to sit the fuck up!”

I’m going to hell for finding this as hilarious as I do.

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Fending Off the Cat

Cat tries to tip over my fries so she can lick the salt off them:
Me: Nope, you’re going to make a mess, here’s a single tiny fry, go nuts.

Cat tries to eat my burger:
Me: Nope, that has ketchup on it, it’ll mAKE YOU SICK STOP THAT!!!

Cat tries to lick the milk off the rim of my glass:
Me: YOU ARE LACTOSE INTOLERANT STOP THAT!!!!

Exercising Part II

I don’t like going out into public. I especially don’t like going out into public to exercise. As such I have begun to exercise in the comfort of my home in the dark basement where nobody can see me. This has proved much more convenient than my previous forays into exercising. I don’t have to put on clothing that is acceptable by public standards nor do I have to worry about my boobs flopping about every which way. It’s great! There is, however, one problem:

My cat.

The cat’s name is Wade. He is fat, too. He really likes dangly toys. (My cardio routine is grabbing a ribbon and dragging it around the basement until neither of us can breathe, anymore). My hair reaches the middle of my back.¬†Guess what the cat likes to do?

If you guessed “try to maul my hair,” you win.