This is my Confession

I remember when we picked him out. He lay there, stretched out in the kennel. Every time we'd pass, he'd reach his paw out and pat us. So sweet and insistent. Determined.

Less than six months old, he'd already been turned in to the pound twice. Abandoned. Adopted. Discarded.

He became a part of our lives. Goofy. Pushy. Hungry. Always hovering near or checking in on the food bowl. He grew so fast that, at one point, we had to take him to the vet because his harness had dug in before we'd realized it.

That cat was a walking, talking learning curve.

While he was everyone's cat, he was, truly, my familiar. He spent his time near me, on me, biting me. He liked to sleep on my head, on my back, between my knees. He liked to sleep between me and the edge of the bed, the door to the room.

He was skittish. Easily spooked. My own Courage the Cowardly Dog, he did his level best to stand between me and the things that go bump in the night. He liked to climb into our bedroom window when the crazy shit went down in the 'hood.

SweetPea was not a fan of this particular trait. The blinds would not always close properly after his wide ass, leaving SweetPea to discover herself bare assed to the world through gaping holes in the blinds.

He ruled Gomi. All puffed up with one paw in the air, Gomi would dodge and dart. If she got too close, she got it on the nose.

He loved to go outside. He'd race out the front door at any opportunity, only to skitter the 15 feet to the driveway and cower under a vehicle.

I fucking loved that cat.

We stopped free feeding the cats. Instead, putting down a serving for each one. We found and fortified all the ways he was sneaking meals.

We brought home a dog that would not be intimidated by him. A loud, angry, cat hating dog.

I don't think we realized it was happening, but my sweet, skittish cat became unwilling to traverse the dog's territory to get to the kitchen where meals were served. In fairness, our cats tend to operate in secret, when the house is quiet, so you just believe everything is normal.

Even when he started losing weight. Wasn't that what putting him on a diet was for? He lost weight, but never became alarmingly thin.

Maybe I should have known something was wrong.

I should have known something was wrong.

In the end, I failed him.

All he wanted was to love me, protect me, eat my hair.

And I failed him.

I should have protected him. I should have known. I should have taken better care of him. I should have been more observant.

And, yes. Sometimes I feel like I should never have brought that dog home.

But I can't take it back. Any of it.

I failed him.

PS: Yes. Comments are disabled for this post.

Portrait of a Sleeping Cat

For your amusement, here is a snap of SuperFat's preferred night time sleeping locale & position. Behind him, the wall. Under him, my pillow (yes those are gnome sheets)(like you're really surprised). My head goes in the belly region.


He really does sleep all flopped out on his back like that. On top of my head.

Unless he thinks there's something he needs to keep an eye on. Then he spends the night "on watch".

Swear.

But he's such a chicken and any little noise makes him jump.

My cat. Is Courage the Cowardly Dog.

Ha.

PS: I take it I'm not the only one that didn't make it in to the office today?

Our New Addition

Her name is Gomi Takaramono. The intention was to call her "rice" in Japanese, but Monkey See maybe isn't so much paying attention in Japanese. Instead, Gomi means "garbage". Takaramono means "treasure".

One man's trash is another man's treasure.

Yes, we did name her garbage. It's ok.

Also, yes, she's pit. Yes, that's the breed that we had initially agreed upon before getting sidelined into Akitas and Rotties. She's about 8 months old. Yes, she has one brown eye and one blue eye.

We stopped on the way home and made lots of visits, Gomi greeted everyone from her pad in the backseat. Once home, she had a look around the living room and inspected her new crate. Then SweetPea came out and sat down on the couch. Gomi wandered on up to her, flopped down on the ground in front of her and put all four feet in the air.

SuperFat came wandering out into the living room, walked right on past the dog, inspected the new crate, and then sniffed the prone puppy. No hiss, no raised fur, no reaction whatsoever.

I guess she's ours.

*squeal*!

Superfat

Cheating on his girlfriend with a pony. Dude's got serious kink issues.

Superfat

In his favorite spot.

Transgender Cat?

Monkey Do: "Is You part boy and part girl?"

Me: "Uh... no."

SweetPea: "Yeah, he's a shim!"

New Year's Revolutions

Over here in the Verbose World, we do not so much believe in "resolutions". Partially because we are a fickle, will-power-less bunch. Um, ok, mostly for that reason.

I've found "goals" are easier and less intimidating. If I screw up a day, it's not the end of the world, because I didn't make a resolution to lose weight, I made a goal to eat less, move more.

Now, I've considered my "official" goal list for the new year to be pretty small. However, once I get to thinking on it, I realize it's kind of not so much. I guess that happens in the Verbose World.

My goals for 2008:

1. Eat less. Move more.
2. Rough draft by June.
3. Every. Day.
4. Work daily towards reducing our impact on the environment.
5. Work towards the two-year plan.

SweetPea has added one of her own creation. A goal that is tantamount to someone pledging to go off crack for the new year.

SweetPea says we need to give up fast food for at least the first six months of the year.

I know this is a worthy and good goal, and that it will benefit us in numerous ways.

Y'all.

I can guarantee you that there will be at least one complete meltdown over this (totally on my part, by the way).

You see, when we actually cook, the vast majority of it is done by me. I am sure there is going to be at least one day where I will come home from work, tired, irritated and with dangerously low blood sugar and totally lose it over the idea of still having to cook dinner.

And I totally know that this particular goal is going to take planning, team work, and a complete transition in our thinking. We used to be really, really good at this, so I hope that it'll be easier to get back into the swing of things.

I hope y'all had a wonderful and safe New Year's celebration, and that your new year is prosperous, joyful and spectacular.

Now enjoy some kitty.


PS: I totally know those paws go digging around in the litter box, but I still want to shove them in my mouth and nom nom nom on them.

Gratitude

Today I am thankful for....

SweetPea

MonkeyDo and MonkeySee

Teetums

Gimpy and SuperFat

Babe & her Sweet Prince (grammy and grandpa)

Rescue me!

So the Big Dog posted today about her brother's new puppy and commented "Sometimes you get the greatest dogs in rescue."

Personally, I think all rescue critters have great potential. I think there are too many people who would be surprised at what extraordinary critters can be had through rescue.

All of our critters (with the exception of whatever fish are still alive right now) were rehomed from somewhere. Including Superfat, who came direct from the city pound. In fact, Superfat was a two time loser, having been dumped, adopted, and dumped again.

I remember making the choice to pick him. There were tons of cute kittens that day. We'd gone to a couple of rescues before hitting the pound. Every time we got near his cage he stuck his big old paw out, grabbing for us. We had been looking for a girl. We had been looking for something other than grey & white like Gimpy. But that mouth, pushy cat was determined to go home with us. Once named Mittons and apparently not fed well (if at all), our You/Youmers/Superfat has an eating disorder whereby he is just not happy unless he has free access to a filled cat bowl. He pulls his water dish out into the walkway when it's empty, or climb into the tub and meow for someone to turn on the water. He loves to sleep on my head, and comes to get me when it's time to get up. Once I get up in the morning, he has some breakfast and some water, a trip to the sand box and then he curls up near me and sleeps the morning away. He's had a hard night, after all, keeping the zombies and boogeymen away. He loves to lick my hand and eat hair. He even has his own Barbie fashion doll that we tease is his girlfriend.

I couldn't imagine our house without him. He's a loyal, loving friend and I'm almost sad that two whole families missed out on a truly great catch.

But their loss is our gain!

why we don't buy the good blinds

My poor, decapitated cat.

My cat is a candy ass

We have two cats. Officially they are Me and You, but are most often referred to as Gimpy and Superfat (alternatively fatty, fatty boombalaty). They are indoor cats. Me because he is a gimp and would likely not be able to protect himself or get out of the way of oncoming traffic. You because he's a candy ass and has no street smarts what so ever. (Yes, I jest, because, as far as I'm concerned, cats are inside pets, period.) You is utterly fascinated with "outside" and has snuck his fat ass out the door on a number of occassions. He goes out the front door at a bolt, gets to the driveway and then hides under the truck. I'm convinced that's as far as he's thought ahead and he has no idea what to do next. When he goes out the back... OK, I have no idea what he does. All I know is that's dangerous, what with the giant Akita back there that probably sees the fat cat as another snuggle toy. Just like the cat sized rats she kills. I do know that he comes back covered in stickers and very very loving and snuggly. Like "omg, you cannot believe the horrors that I have seen. Please comfort me and tell me everything will be ok and I never have to leave my cosy house ever ever again."

My cat is a candy ass.

My cat has a "friend", though. The unfixed orange male cat next door, Pumpkin, who was the father of our gypsy kittens. (by the way, you have no idea how thrilled I am that the people next door own two unfixed cats that they allow to roam the neighborhood at will)

Pumpkin likes to come over and sit on the storage thingie outside our office window and visit You. I  mean, I guess that's what he's doing. I've caught him there, and SweetPea has said that he will sit there and yowl and yowl and when she pokes her head through the blinds he looks at her and yowls.

This morning Pumpkin was sitting in his spot while You was in the window. I figured this out after hearing You growl and growl. His tail was flicking angrily and he was making all these weird noises. It's possible he may not know how to growl correctly. I have no idea what his issue is. Or, for that matter, why Pumpkin keeps coming for visits when You just makes mean at him. Maybe that's fun for Pumpkin. Kind of like sometimes watching stupid politicy bullshit go down when it doesn't affect you is fun.

I'm sure that if I tossed You outside when Pumpkin was out there he'd probably pee himself with fright. Because, dude... My cat's a candy ass. He only ever fights with Me, who's a gimp.

Even though he's a big fat candy ass, he's still my cat and I love him. Now that it's gotten colder again he's started sleeping on my head. Which would work out a lot better for him if he'd quit flicking SweetPea in the face with his tail.