That Darn Cat


You either love ’em or your hate ’em. Personally, I love them but I bet you already knew that. And I know I’m far from alone.

I actually had the good fortune of speaking at BlogPaws this summer. It’s a conference designed specifically for pet bloggers. If you aren’t part of that community, I’m happy to tell you it’s a very fascinating subculture. The pets are always front and center when it comes to blogging, and when it comes to socializing.

Look at some of the furry friends I met there.

Some of the kitties represented short hair breeds and were so pettable but honestly looked a little mad. It could be because their clothes were too tight.

Other cats were reminiscent of the Austin Powers movies and even had their very own conference transportation.

They even gave you a chance to meet Sonya Fitzpatrick (know as the Pet Psychic). I was hoping she could give me a little insight into some of my nutty pets. Or maybe insight into my sister’s crazy cat.

My sister’s cat is a unique fella. Not that his breed is unique or anything. Just HE is. His name is Charlie and he is one messed up cat. By messed up, I mean, if a cat could be insane, he might be committed.

I know, I know. He looks totally adorable. And when he is sleeping, he totally is. But this cat weighs a ridiculous amount. I forget how much but it hurts my back to pick him up. And he is oblivious to his surroundings. He’ll walk into the kitchen and sprawl in the middle of the floor. He doesn’t care. We’ve tripped over him numerous times and he doesn’t move.

He also has some incredibly destructive behaviors. He’ll eat (in no particular order): sunglasses, power cords, and other inedible objects. He’ll knock over anything that is standing up. Anything. He’s a menace but, man, he has personality.

And then there’s my cat.

Is she some special breed? Does she get her own stroller? Does she wear fancy clothes? Is her personality front and center?

The answer is NO to all of the above.

I love Josie. I especially feel like I have to say that because I don’t want to hurt her feelings, even if she can’t read and has no idea what a blog is.

It’s just that, well, she has the personality of a cement walkway. She’s just there. Or as my husband likes to say, “she’s inert.”

She always walked in the shadow of my dearly departed kitty, Arnie, who seemed to take her under his wing and show her the ropes. But she never had the personality that Arnie had. She never came into her own.

Arnie, for example, would climb up on the dinner table (in his spot of course) and just sit there properly. He never asked for food. He just sat there. He would look you straight in the eye and never blink. We used to joke that he was secretly transmitting all our human secrets back to the mothership.

On the other hand, Josie won’t make eye contact. Josie doesn’t come when she’s called. Josie doesn’t have that kitty sense. Her thought process seems to be, “food-play-sleep-attention.”

Her latest trick seems to be waking me up several times during the night for attention.

Really? Because I was hoping to wake up at 4am just so I could give you a snuggle.

The problem isn’t just her need for attention. It’s that she has to announce it. In fact, she announces everything.

When she comes down the stairs in the morning for breakfast, she lightly say meow as she goes down each step. While waiting for food, she gives me full pronounced and constant meows. She makes tiny little meows as she runs back upstairs to hibernate. And when she comes to me for attention, she jumps up on the bed with a meow. And if I don’t immediately tend to her needs, she comes within in 2 inches of my face and gives me a pleading meow.

Maybe that’s totally typical for cats. Maybe I just got lucky and had a one of a kind cat in Arnie (I know I did).

Her saving graces? Her fur is as soft as a bunny rabbit’s fur (never mind the fact that she so fat and can’t properly groom the lower half of her body). She loves belly rubs (and I love to give belly rubs). She keeps me company when I’m sitting quietly on my bed trying to finish a post (like now).

Enlighten me with your cat stories. Or better yet, share a picture of your alien cat over on my Facebook page. I promise to say nice things.

  • MommaTaderDoodles

    Oh my oh my….  have you met my sister? @lilwookiemama:twitter ? Lil Wookie is in honor of LeFat… to quote her About Me page… “It’s only fair to warn any potential followers that I talk about my cat a
    lot.  I haven’t gone full-blown Crazy Cat Lady yet, but working from
    home means we spend a great deal of time together.  Just as a point of
    reference, she’s an overweight calico with an attitude I decided was
    predominately French – hence the name Ginger Eclair Fontainbleu ( aka
    The Baby Wookie, Madame Fatness, La Fat, and sometimes just plain old
    Fattywad).”  Seriously, she would LOVE your cat post.

  • Dana K

    I’ve always had cats. Most have been awesome. Many have been weird. Currently, we have a great rescue, Callie. She’s wonderful. Great with kids & the dogs are scared to death of her.

    Then…we have a not great rescue, Nixie. She’s semi-feral…heavy on the FERAL. I’ve had her since she was a kitten & was returned to the adoption center on a Friday afternoon without warning. With 5 other animals, I offered to keep her for the weekend. It’s been almost 4 years. She sucks but she’s beautiful. She looks like a Norwegian Forest Cat. She’s silver and feels like angora…if you ever get to touch her. You have to catch her to touch her. It’s unpleasant.

  • shannontm817

    My cat Footsie does the same thing, going up and down the stairs and when he jumps. We have always thought it was him announcing “I’m goooooinnnnnnggggg upstairs!” or “I’m gooooooiiiinnnnnngggggg downstairs.” and the jumping up is” I’m UP!” because when they do jump up and they don’t quite make it – that meow is quite different so I think that’s “CRAP!”  Josie sounds like a sweet girl. Footsie never gets out of the way, in fact he has mastered the art of “heeling” he walks with me, to the point of danger. Of course, my cat Smokey, runs if you walk near him convinced you are going to trample him. I’m not sure which I prefer, because Smokey makes me feel like I’m a bulll in a china shop.  I enjoyed your post. New to the blog, I’m liking it!

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