As I am not a religious man, I would like all of you to keep me and my pet groomer in your thoughts because I dropped Steve off for his annual lion cut and he was fucking furious- like the angriest I have ever seen him. It started at five am when I heard him meowing for food, and I ignored him, so he did what he always does, which is to promptly go to the litter box and aggressively kick litter all over the god damned place. I yelled at him “You motherfucker” and then got up to go downstairs to feed him, and halfway down I remembered that I couldn’t feed him this morning because he is going to the groomers and when I feed him he shits all over them. Well, he always shits all over them because when they shave around his private parts his bowels let loose, but if I don’t feed him, there is less of it.
At any rate, I continued downstairs to feed him, he ran into the little half bath where I keep his food bowl (it’s there so I can shut the door and keep Rosie and Thurston from stealing his food), let him run in, and then just shut the door behind him without feeding him, thinking I could then just extract him and put him in his crate when it is time to go.
Needless to say, this served to do nothing but infuriate him even more, because not only was he hungry, but the fat man had tricked him. When it was time to crate him, I slowly opened the door and he tried to burst out the door like an uncovered linebacker, but I managed to grab him by his scruff and corral his fat ass into the container. He then literally *HOWLED* with rage the entire fifteen minute drive, and by the time we got their was a frothing, hissing, spitting ball of claws and fur.
I can’t describe the look in the groomers eyes adequately, but equal parts fear, bewilderment, and horror sums it up. I just said “I didn’t feed him this morning so he won’t shit on you,” and the guy deadpanned “Yeah thanks for that.”
I’m hoping that he is going to feel so much better after the shave that I make it through the night.
It was my birthday last week, and the people at work got me a cake:
Seeing this cake cleared up a strange moment from the week before. I’d walked into the conference room, and there was a picture of Samwise up on the big screen. My team lead forgot he was projecting from his laptop and quickly switched to a different window.
“Was that a picture of my cat?” I asked.
“…no,” he said.
“Why do you have a picture of my cat? Not that I’m complaining.”
Then the meeting started.
Politics-allowed open thread! Bonus Samwise pic below the fold.
Ric has a new box.
I tried a new lunch place today, a local coffee roaster. I had what amounts to avocado toast with a salad and poached egg on top. Very good.
No politics here.
From “semi-lurker” commentor TMinSJ:
A friend of mine called me a few weeks ago to say that his apartment had been inspected by the management and they found his family’s contraband pets, a cat and a dog. He was given 72 hours to get rid of the pets or get a 30 day eviction notice. While he had found someone to take the dog, he had not been able to place the cat, and by then down to less than 48 hours, said if I could not take the cat he would have to go to the local shelter. I went and got the cat.
His name is Elby. He is one of the world’s sweetest cats, but here is my issue: I have a cat (Belle, showing off one of her favorite games in March of this year’s Pets of Balloon Juice calendar: stick under the tissue paper/kitty under the tissue paper) and she is not having it. She is having an epic meltdown over him being in our (hers and my) apartment, and even though they are separated by a gate, she is losing her shit. Her losing it is making me feel like I’m losing it, so I need to find a nice home for Elby.
Elby is truly one of the nicest cats I’ve ever met. His favorite activity since he’s been here is lying on my chest and doing head-butts and face rubs under my chin accompanied by purring, punchy-paws and occasionally licking my face. Unlike most cats he is totally chill being carried around.
Elby does have a challenge, and that is his right back leg is disabled and will not support his full weight, so he walks with a limp and is not able to jump. I took him to my vet and she said he has a compressed disk in his lower back and that the leg itself is not the issue. He takes daily pain medicine to help his mobility. The meds are liquid, and although he does try to turn his head away, he has never tried to swat or bite me, or even growled at me, while I give him his meds. While I was at the vet I had his shots updated, since they were due in a few months, so he’s all current. My vet said she thinks Elby is about 12 years old (he was an adult when my friend adopted him, so his age was always a guess). Other than the bad leg he is a healthy cat.
If I had written this a few days ago I would have said he can’t get on the furniture, but the other day I came into the living room and he was on the back of the couch. He was clearly VERY proud of himself, so I think he had been working on it for a while.
He would love to sleep with someone, but he would need pet stairs to get down to his litter box at night. Speaking of litter boxes, I got him the one with the lowest sides I could find, and he’s been fine getting in and out with no accidents.
I didn’t want Belle to have to share (I was aware of her hard “no siblings” policy before I picked him up), so I got him all new cat paraphernalia, including toys, beds, bowls, etc. plus the carrier he came in. I have a cat-kit ready to go, including this sweet boy, hopefully to a home that will give him as much love and attention as he deserves!
I’m happy to communicate with anyone interested via comments and/or email, and will work with anyone on transportation if needed.
You guys know the drill: Leave a comment, or email me (annelaurie dot bj at gmail dot com) and I’ll forward your message. Some of the very sweetest cats I’ve ever known — including my current Piper — have been grey (okay, cat experts: blue) tuxies!