Tuesday, May 22, 2012
I don't care if you're nocturnal, 5 am is not dinner time
Growing up we always had pets. By the time I was 24 a couple of rabbits, a slew of fish, an insane cat and the best dog ever had come and gone from my life. Since then I have been mostly pet less with the exception of some very unexceptional fish who had mere cameos in my life. Although the fish I had that lived in an old 40 oz. Colt 45 bottle (the first being named Colt 45, then Colt 46 so on until 51 I think) hold a special place in my heart they never really required much attention. Then I moved in with my girlfriend and became step father to a cat. Since then I have been super reluctant to mention what a fucking nut job this cat is lest I become that guy who talks about his cat all of the time. I mean, I know I'm pathetic but I don't want to be that pathetic. I know that I have dedicated one blog to the furry jerk and that seems like more than enough. Then I went through a monstrous ordeal last night thanks to this feline fury and I can't help myself, I have to write about her again. Hopefully this will be the last time.
It was roughly 5 am. I was sleeping like a baby. OK, that might not be entirely true as I do like to snore and thrash in my sleep. It is probably more apt to say that I was sleeping like a baby warthog. Anyway, I'm fast asleep and I as I start to come out of my slumber I feel a weight on my neck. Not on my chest, not on my face, directly on my windpipe as if something is attempting to choke me. I awoke with a start to Myrna sitting on my throat staring directly at my face. "Meow!" I toss her halfway across the room and barely contain myself from pissing myself out of sheer terror. She jumps back up on to me and puts her little head right in my grill, "MEOW!" After tossing her across the room for a second time I get up and decide I may as well go pee while I'm up.
Once I start walking Myrna starts weaving between my legs intent on forcing me to kick her or trip and fall on my face. I go to the bathroom hoping that she won't follow me in, to no avail. For a devious split second after picking her up I consider dropping her in the toilet to teach her a lesson but I assume that will go poorly, plus I'm not that mean. I toss her out of the bathroom and close the door to micturate in peace. "MEOW! MEOW! MEOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!" Normally Myrna is a quiet cat but she just wouldn't shut up. She kept doing the weaving between the legs act and basically herded me into the kitchen so I could see that her food bowl was. . . half full.
"WHAT THE HELL?! You don't need more food you greedy fur ball. I slaved over a can of fancy feast for close to 15 seconds last night, you will clean your plate and love it before I feed you again," I snarl at the cat. Yes, I talk to the cat. Never said I wasn't insane.
"MEOW! MEOW!" She responds while staring at her food bowl.
Oh goddamnit. There is no way in hell she is going to let me go back to bed without feeding her. It's 5 am, it is not breakfast time. I don't give a shit if cats are supposed to be nocturnal animals in my house you adapt to my rules, dammit. We all know what happened next as I abandoned my principles and fed the damn thing. She hungrily dug in and I decided that it wasn't that bad. I had just overreacted and if I was hungry and unable to get food I would have done the same thing. Then I felt something furry run past my leg and by the time I got back to bed there was a black thing on my pillow. Apparently those 3 bites of food were all that Myrna wanted. She ruined my entire night/morning for 3 bites of food! Or maybe it was all a complicated ruse (that I fell for completely) for her to sleep in the warm spot I left on the pillow. All I know is that I have never wanted to test just how many lives a cat may have more in my life than this morning.
Once I cleared her off and fell back asleep I had the most wonderful dream. I was in Red Square competing in a drinking contest against Ivan Drago in the middle of winter. I was shirtless but wasn't even remotely cold. This confused me for a second until I saw my reflection in the ice block that was serving as the table for our contest. I was being kept warm by the most spectacular black fur hat. It was in the typical Russian style except for one little difference. It had two tiny little cat ears on the front.
So heed this warning Myrna, if you ever wake my ass up at 5 am for this sort of bullshit again I will make that dream come true.