the Bucky Four-Eyes Cotillion

Friday, April 21, 2006

Bowling for pussy

Just because I'm allergic to them and they give me the equivalent of a respiratory infection if I nuzzle too long doesn't mean I am not completely smitten with cats. It's how I was raised, The Way of the Cat Worship, and a little breath-stopping allergy is no match for ingrained, deep-seated kitty love. You have to remember that my parents had cats already when I was born, and when my dad brought my mom and me home from the hospital the first time, he had to remind her, in all seriousness, to greet her other human children before she said hello to the cats. You see where I had no other choice but to be the way I am?

So imagine the ecstatic wheezing that has erupted in my bosom as I have flung myself into the midst of an even dozen felines. Every morning, I pop my barely adequate Clarinex (yes, going to see the doc soon and get some Singulair, I promise!) and then immerse myself in fluffy evil bliss when I give myself over to the cat horde.

My bedroom is supposed to be a cat-free zone, and it mostly is, but at least once a day, Wobbles breaches my security and scoots in with silvery stealth. When I turn around to fetch him, he wanders around the room with his best "I'm so innocent, not doing anything wrong, aren't I cute?" face and sniffs everything like it's new, like he didn't sneak in here and sniff the same things yesterday. Do I yell and squawk? Why, of course I do. I come in here and rage and roar and swoop down on poor frozen-ass Wobbles and scream "GET OUT OF MY ROOM, HELLSPAWN!" and then I throw him out and go kick the dogs to show him what could happen to him. Can't give those cat bastards an inch, you know. They know me as Hard-Ass Aunt Katy, The Mean One.

Ummmmmm....okay, I know that will cause riotous laughter amongst those who live with me, or even know me a little bit. Let's face it - I'm a soft touch. A sucker. A patsy. Those cats are planning to pin a murder on me, I know it, and my silly ass will go to jail thinking, "Well, I wouldn't want any of the little kitty kitties in trouble!" And then the cats will send me a pillow filled with their fur so I will never breathe right in prison, either.

When Wobbles sneaks in here, my reaction is more like "Oh, Wobbles, you silly nosy boy, you know you shouldn't be in here!" in a not tough voice. And then he jumps on my forbidden bed and rolls around, and buys himself an extra five minutes in here while I reel from the cuteness.

Suckaaaah!

The animals have clearly discussed me and devised strategies to break me down based on my weaknesses, of which I have many where cats are concerned. Even tiny, shy little Nala perks up when I come around because she knows I will pet her ever so gently and then give her cheese. The whiskered bandits also know I'm the lady who brings 'em the giant tubs of catnip. Why aren't fucked-up humans half as cute as fucked-up cats? I do love my little stoner kitties.

I love them all, and make it a point to spend an unseemly amount of time each day making over any cat who appears in my line of sight. There is one cat, however, who has really snagged my heart, mind, and everlasting soul, and I have become her willing minion. Smidge, Smidge, evil cow cat of doom Smidge, all she need do is glance my way and I'm at her side immediately, bowing, scraping, and inquiring, "Yes, Mama Smidge, what bidding may I be blessed to do for you today, oh evil one?"

So far, she has not requested anything especially heinous from me, as her daughters Rowdy and Buttercup usually carry out collections, beatings, and hits for her. My servitude mostly consists of hours of petting as she swirls around me, and sneaking her bites of my food so the other cats don't see and demand the same. I adore this cat. When such a time comes that I am cured of my allergies, I fully intend to let Smidge sleep in my room and bite me in the face while I sleep.

I have been obsessed with Smidge for a long time now. My sickness finally culminated in one of the most vivid, strange dreams I've ever had.

In my dream, Jess was making informational pamphlets about each of her twelve cats. The one I picked up, of course, was the one about my cow kitty of doom. The cover had a picture of Smidge's face, with the title: Think you know something about me? I'm Smidge.

Inside, each page featured a fact about Smidge and a picture or a drawing of her. There was one page...god help me, I don't know what's wrong with my brain, but when I awoke, the image of that page was so vivid and immediate in my mind that I had to whip out the Photoshop and recreate it.

This, in all truth, is pretty much exactly what I saw in my dream:

Smidge likes to bowl


Do you think I should put up a PayPal donation button to pay for the extensive therapy I obviously need? Or at least to pay for a few frames of cat bowling?

12 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':

Blogger Ms.B said...

You need no therapy. I <3 kitties too.


The animal shelter in town makes me want to take them all home. They all mew as you walk away.

7:07 PM, April 21, 2006  
Blogger JessicaRabbit said...

Well I warned you that she is the mother of all evil. Once you love the Smidge, you are never free.

She will make sure of that.

Oh yeah and your "mean voice".. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAA

yeah. no no, they totally respect you. yep. sure.

7:21 PM, April 21, 2006  
Blogger eclectic said...

Evil Cow Kitty of Doom -- if you break it down into an acronym, "E-C-K-D", it proves that she had you pegged as an easy mark long ago. Easy Katy. Don't fight your destiny.

7:31 PM, April 21, 2006  
Anonymous kalki said...

Shit. I just realized I don't think I've ever dreamed about my cats! God I am an awful mother.

Perhaps I'll take them bowling this weekend to prove my love.

9:06 PM, April 21, 2006  
Blogger Squirl said...

I just want to know what she knocks over when she bowls.

I only met her once and she pretty much ignored me. That's okay, Wobbles is my buddy.

9:30 PM, April 21, 2006  
Blogger Michele in Michigan said...

Feline therapy is all the help you need.

I want to see all of the brochures. After all, I needs me to catch up on all the lil' furry chirrens there.

We will soon have six in our brood. We're waiting to move into our new house to bring home our blind & deaf boy.

9:38 PM, April 21, 2006  
Blogger Susie said...

Oh, I guess you can't hear me sitting here smiling :)

Thanks. Nice kitty.

11:43 PM, April 21, 2006  
Blogger Bucky Four-Eyes said...

Ms. B - I always cry when I go to shelters because I know I can never help them all.

Jess - So maybe I'm a leeetle bit of a pushover where the animals are concerned.
Oh, let's face it - I'm just a pushover, period.

Eclectic - Easy, pushover, either way, I'm Smidge's bitch.

Kalki - I think bowling is the only way you'll be able to salvage your relationship with your cats at this point.

Squirl - she knocks over souls. Mine, time after time...

Michele in Mich - congrats on the upcoming new addition! I hope the other kitties will be welcoming, or at least, not mean.
I'll have to see what I can do about those pamphlets.

Susie - glad I could cause a smile. :)
Smidge just inspires me, I guess.

1:40 AM, April 22, 2006  
Anonymous minxlj said...

Cats rule the world, it's a known fact. I gave into my 2 kitties even though I was terribly allergic to cats, and now they rule my house too.

9:53 AM, April 22, 2006  
Blogger hemlock said...

Why can't I have fucked up and vivid dreams like that?

Kitties have a way of doing mean things to you, and you keep coming back for more. They're crazy like that.

12:25 PM, April 22, 2006  
Blogger whfropera said...

im thinking the brochures need to be published - I look forward to each installment of - The Year In Cats.

3:27 PM, April 22, 2006  
Blogger OneCrueGirl said...

But how does she fit her paw into the bowling ball? Is there a catnip bar instead of a beer bar in the back of the bowling alley? Instead of pins, are there 10 wobbly (not to be confused with Wobbles) stuffed mice to knock down? Do they have little cat-sized slippery and weird-smelling yet funky bowling shoes to wear? PEOPLE WANT TO KNOW THESE THINGS.

Oh, and there's this cool book called Bad Cat. We keep our copy in the bathroom for entertaining pooping. And a website called mycathatesyou.com or something like that. You should check it out. Also try stuffonmycat.com.

2:48 PM, April 24, 2006  

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