Entry 137: Squeeks, Squirms, And Maybe A Dogtrocity.

Remember how I told you that my cat had a bit of a weight problem?  While there were some good suggestions (get her some new cat toys) and some austere recommendations (feed her dryer lint), a common refrain from most people was "get another cat to keep her company."

Sounds good, in theory.  But I was reluctant for a number of reasons.  First, I'm still shocked that I've managed to keep one animal alive for 5 years.  Beyond that, Squirms is already a responsibility as well as a pain in the ass.  Did you know cats want to eat every day? I just fed you *last* week!  Sheesh.  And remembering to take out 2 litters?  Some nights I don't remember to make myself dinner.  Let alone deal with this mess:

While I was opposed to a new cat, LJ decided that a kitten playmate for Squirms was definitely the way to go and that I could be persuaded.  Convinced that if I only saw how cute the little bastard was I couldn't refuse, she went in search of the cutest kitten on Earth.  Well, her plan was sound in most respects, but she overlooked one fatal flaw:

 

Thank God I didn't end up with that little tyrant- he's a huge (literally- I think his mom was a street liger) ass-clown that thinks it's funny to play the "spill any liquid around" game in the middle of the night.   Sometimes I hold him up by the tail and blow cigarette smoke in his face just to assert dominance.  Hey- my dad did it to me, and that worked out just fine. 

While LJ's plan had failed, Kimmie had a different approach.  She knew that two of my weaknesses- Bengal cats and irony- could eventually be my undoing.  The first phase of her plan was to make me jealous by inheriting two Bengal cats, which are *fricking awesome* and normally very expensive.  Where LJ's Leaf Coneybear inspired what I call "not jealousy" I was smitten by Kimmie's 2 awesome Bengals.  

My cat defense softened by Bengal-envy, Kimmie began phase 2 of her nefarious plan. She suddenly "found" a cat that she had to care for, yet she didn't "want" to because she had already just gotten two new cats.  She asked me to take this new cat "temporarily" but then began dropping ironic coincidences that she knew I couldn't refuse.  She found a cat so similar to my own cat that I couldn't in good conscience say no.  Here you go:

What was I supposed to do?  Squeeks?  You know I can't pass that up!  Squeeks and Squirms?  Identical cats?  Oh you're good, Kimmie.  Maybe too good.  Whatever, she won this round and I have had Squeeks at my house since Saturday.  Now I'm working on getting him and Squirms to get along because, well, my cat's a bitch. 

I read on the interweb that introducing a new cat into a house is a lot like setting your friend up on a date.  Lock the new one in a room for days so they can smell each other without fear of physical contact, manipulate both into thinking that they're your favorite, and slowly introduce them to each other while banging pots and pans if a fight breaks out.  Most of my married friends actually started out this way. 

I have been working this approach since Saturday, and have just recently allowed both of them to be out during the day together.  So far, Squirms has not been amused or pleased with this development.  Though I'm seeing definite signs of improvement- for instance, her hiss-radius has gone down 50%.  That's progress.

Not drawn to scale

Not bad.  Sadly, Elizabeth Hurley's "call the police" radius on me has remained steady.

I think the final bonding moment between Squeeks and Squirms is going to be when they finally find common ground.  Specifically, a common enemy.  

Let me pause right there and tell you about the most annoying pack of mongrel half-breed dogs the Earth has ever seen.  To get you in the mood (heh), and to explain why I call this pack "The Bumpuses," here's a video:

While they haven't stolen my Christmas turkey, my neighbor's dogs do have what I call "The 24 hour bark-cycle" similar to how CNN has a 24 hour news-cycle.  And they're both equally annoying.  These dogs WILL. NOT. SHUT. UP.  They bark in shifts, so as to never have a gap of constant mongrel yapping.  They will get quieter just to lull you into a false sense of peace, then crescendo their symphony number #9 in Db-shutthehellup right when you're getting ready for bed. Their favorite recent trick is to yowl along every time I sing (loudly) in the morning.  Everybody's a critic. 

Fuckin Dogs. 

In a show of solidarity Squirms has always hated these dogs as much as me.  Well, I found out that Squeeks couldn't move with his family because there were going to be dogs, and Squeeks HATES dogs.  You see where I'm going with this, right?

"John Stamos!"

Hopefully this is how things work out, because it'd be cool if there was one good thing to come out of me not throatpunch-murdering these dogs.  I'll keep you posted. 

Damnit, spellcheck! I thought I added "throatpunch" already.

In other news, the Cubs (aka "real baseball") start tomorrow, and my birthday is Saturday.  Thinking about a photo-year-in-review.  Sound interesting?

Caleb "yes I promise no naked photos" Shreves

PS Congratulations to GothBiotch and T-Rav on their engagement!  I think this means beer for life though.

Tweet