Monday, December 1, 2014

Why I Believe My Cat is Out to Destroy Me

Have you ever had a pure demonic spirit trapped roaming about your home wreaking havoc and driving you to the brink of insanity?

Oh, excuse me, what I meant to ask is, have you ever owned a cat?

Don't get me wrong, not all cats are hellspawns. In fact, I have one who is so well-behaved most people don't even believe he exists. But the other...she's a bitch. A cold-hearted, maniacal, loathesome bitch who is definitely plotting my demise.

Let's just make this easy and create a nice hefty list of the ways she's trying to torment me.

  • She doesn't care about any pathetic scratching post. She is fully content with clawing the hell out of the wood door frames, the wood doors, the hardwood floors, the couch, the ottoman, my leg, my boobs, the coffee table, the countertops, the desk, the end see where I'm going with this, right? I basically have nothing that hasn't been shredded by this little turd.
  • She knows EXACTLY where she's allowed and not allowed (like, inside the Christmas tree, on top of the corner shelving unit, etc) but she gets up there anyway. And when she does, she looks you dead in the eye with that looks that says, "What? What are you gonna do about it? Nothing. That's what."
  • There's little better than when you're laying down at night or deeply absorbed in my laptop or a movie, and to suddenly hear a THUD. This little devil child will climb up on top of the entertainment center and shelves and - her favorite - the dresser and/or rolltop desk in the bedroom, look you in the eye, and just knock stuff down. No remorse, no care, just a challenge to get me to get up and chase her, which she ALWAYS wins.
  • I don't think I can accurately describe the look in her eyes when she's doing these things. There's a very real and distinct understanding there that what she is doing is wrong, but she couldn't care less. In fact, everything she does is a challenge to me. Daring me to do anything about it. And why? Just to piss me off. Yes, really.
  • We can't have a Christmas tree that isn't filled with holes from her burrowing into it. Plus we lose half our ornaments every year because she bats them down. Why? To piss me off. And I suspect in hopes that they will shatter and I will slip and fall and die. There's no catnip or food in my will for her, I have no idea what she hopes to accomplish with my demise.
  • We've come to my all-time favorite: she pees in and on EVERYTHING. The walls, the couch, MY PURSES, the stove, the clean dishes, important paperwork, the dog's water bowl, the clean clothes, the dirty clothes, pillows, the bed, my books, the coffee table, bags, my Nook, CD's/DVD's, my laptop, my desktop, the TVs, cell phones, the ottoman, the antique chest passed down from my great great grandmother, electrical sockets, my coat, Andy's hats, the dog...there is nothing off-limits for this girl, and I can't tell you how many times she's ruined my life by peeing on something incredibly important. 
  • After all the nightmarish things she does to torture me, she comes and curls up in my arms and becomes the most adorably adorable ball of adorableness that I temporarily forget her transgressions. Oh, she's good.

And the best part about it all? The moment I'm ready to drop kick her off a freeway bridge, she breaks out the adorable little kitten routine and I'm putty in her hands. She's conniving and she knows EXACTLY what she's doing. And this, my friends, is why I'm certain my cat is the furry spawn of Satan.

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