Aural Abuse

I've always been an animal lover. Some people, like my husband for example, refer to me as the real-life version of Elmira. I beg to differ. I don't torture animals, I just love them in excess.

As a kid I thought of myself as a dog person. While I was fascinated by all creatures, there was just something in the loyal personality of the canine that I was drawn to. Then I got my first pet cat (Oreo Pepsi Sam Chinese Harry Cola Palmer) and realized: "Hey! This is easy!"

Granted, Daddy did most of the work with the litterbox, but the times when I worked the poop scoop weren't too bad. Actually, scooping animal poop is not my least favourite thing in the world. It sure beats cleaning toilets.

I never had to walk Oreo. The times I tried, it didn't work. He was mature enough to roam the great outdoors by himself anyways. He always knew his way home. I never had to bathe him, he did that himself. He never whined when we'd leave; he was probably grateful for the time alone. I had to work for his affection. Unlike a dog I couldn't win him over with a good belly scratch. My best bet was to ignore him. When I did that, his fondness for me would grow. I had trouble doing that, and most of the time he wasn't too fond of me.

Cats typically like to play hard to get. Dogs are open books, but cats walk around like they rule the world. And they pretty much do. I love their confidence.

Needless to say, I was excited when I found out that there would be a cat at the house we're renting. I was even more excited to meet her, and extremely excited when I saw how beautiful she was:

At first it was nice to be around a cat that liked me. I loved Oreo as if he were a person, but as I previously mentioned, I don't think I was his favourite person. 

I met this cat, and immediately she started rubbing up against my legs. She was  a soft, fluffy, cozy furball. I recall commenting to Craig one night: "This is a super friendly cat." It wasn't long after that when things began to take a turn for the worst.

The soft purring turned into shrill meows that could puncture the eardrum and severely damage the cochlea. The gentle head presses against our legs swiftly morphed into head butts against our hands as we tried to fill her bowl, resulting in a crumby floor covered with tiny bits of "Special Kitty."

It's gotten to the point where she'll cry and cry until we walk her to her dish. When we get there and she sees that her bowl is full, she still won't eat until we get down and point to the bowl.  I've said to Craig on several occasions: "Are you kidding me? How can a cat be this high-maintenance? She's a freaking dog!"

I could deal with the food thing if it weren't for the meowing. She sometimes meows for almost ten minutes straight. I get home from work and if she's outside I open the car door to the sound of her meowing. If she isn't outside I open the house door to the sound of her meowing.  Craig and I have begun to give her a taste of her own medicine. Whenever she meows, we'll yell "MEOW!" back at her. Yeah. Take that, cat.

I was having a really bad morning the other day and the cat was meowing like there would be no tomorrow. I was looking forward to leaving the house for work and getting some peace and quiet in the car. So I leave the cat who is still whining, only to get into my car and be subjected to an erratic beeping noise. Apparently there's something going on with the signal that tells us when the car door is open; it continues beeping even when the car door is not open. After being awoken by an alarm and then aurally abused by the cat, the last thing I needed was to be further annoyed. While driving down the road I couldn't help myself. I screamed aloud: "UGGGGH, WHY DOES THE WORLD HATE ME!??" And then proceeded to feel somewhat better.

It is a sad day when someone has to search for peace and quiet in a primary school.

I still have moments when I love the cat. She is insecure, she is needy, but she is still soft and fluffy. In a shallow world concerned primarily with image- at least she has that going for her.

***Post-entry update: Today our darling little furball has pooped on the couch. We're trying to determine the easiest way to get a patent on kitty diapers. For the time being we may just wrap her up in newspapers.