The Pussy (Cat) Diary: Getting My Revenge

The Pussy (Cat) Diary: Getting My Revenge

As dictated by Sabine (the cat) and transcribed by Renee (the Mom) & Lulu (the kid) 

A Day in the Life Of Sabine

A cat’s life is never easy. Cats are really smart but physically,  the domestic breed is  pretty small.  Thus, some humans immediately label me as having “a complex.”  I dont’ know what it is and I don’t want to know.    I’m almost 20 years old.  That’s like 100 in human years.  It’s no wonder that I need therapy!  Check the most recent page from my diary:

Day #998

  • 6:55 a.m.: I am now awake and ready to eat!  But my keeper is not out of bed and waiting to feed me!  I need to remedy this and start to sing as loudly and as off tune as possible. (Little do they know that I have pooped at the bottom of the landing of the stairs!  “What your step!  Oops….that’s a rotten way to start your day!”  HeHeHe!)
  • 7:00 a.m.  Did I mention watch your step? Got her! Ha!
  • 7:02 a.m.: Oh! That smell! That horrible, fishy smell fills the air as she opens a small metal disc. My stomach churns.  If it wasn’t for my arthritic hips, I would jump on my keeper with my claws and show her who’s really boss!  Darn hips!
    • The Beast is stupid too: it dives into its by-product dish of food and devours it.  
    • After it’s finished, the Beast burps in my direction, regurgitates some of its food and then eats it again.  Primitive Creature!
  • 7:05 a.m. In retaliation, I throw up all of my food just to get back at my keeper.  That disgusting beast eats it too!   
  • 8:00 a.m.: The Keeper has put a leather rope around the Beast’s throat and taken it outside for what I assume is a chance to escape from this prison.  Strangely, it comes back and seems happier than ever. It must be the pills she puts in its food every morning.
  • 8:15 a.m.: The Keeper is going out.  She grabs a snack for the Beast and lures it downstairs using this sweet sing-songy voice saying “Come on sweet baby” repeatedly.  It climbs into its iron prison the humans refer to as “a crate.”  Stupid Beast!
  • 9:00 a.m.:  I venture downstairs to make sure the Beast isn’t dead.  I know that I would get blamed somehow if the dog “kicks it.”  It’s still alive.  It looks at me with pathetic, sad eyes as if asking me to let it out of “the crate.”  As if!
  • 9:02 a.m.: I decide to torment the Beast: my daily pleasure.  I slowly stroll back and forth in front of the cage. I like to comment about the joy of having the house to myself and how sad it is that the Beast has to spend the day in a small cage while I can wander freely through the entire house   YAWN…Every few minutes the Beast lunges at me.  But I just sit in front of the cage and smile.  I could unlock the cage, you know.  But why bother?  I love to see the Beast grovel and cry. It is just so pathetic. To mark my spot, I cough up a hairball.
  • 3:00 p.m.: I am awoken from a sound sleep by the echoes of shoes running through the house.  The small person must be home and I need to hide lest she see me and decide that she wants to pick me up. There aren’t a lot of places in this giant box so I choose directly under the dining table–less chance of the child reaching in and catching me.
  • 5:00 p.m.: It’s dinner time.  I have to endure another dose of this gruel!  In protest, I use the  litter box first in hopes of making the first level of the house smell as bad as it can.  What do I care?  I can’t smell a thing!
  • 5:15 p.m.:  I spot the small person and run.  Sadly, due to my age and arthritis, I am unable to outrun its chubby legs.  It grabs me by the tail and I scream in indignation and some pain.  I hear the Keeper tell the little person that “the cat’s tail is not for pulling.”  I hiss at the creature and remind myself that I will get even later tonight after “Mom” is sleeping.  I will sneak into the small person’s bed tonight and sit on its face. Nothing like a little cat hair in your mouth to make you choke!
  • 7:00 p.m.: It’s last call for the Beast. I sit by the door waiting for it to open so I can rush out.  I know that I have to be swift if I am going to escape.  Usually they notice me and kick me away from the door.  But not tonight! The “Keeper” opens the door and I slip out.  I am FREE! I run like my life depends on it and  hide under the porch so no one will be able to find me.
  • 8:00 p.m.: Where the hell are they?  The humans strolled around the yard for almost 3 minutes with their big lights looking for me and then gave up. Now their inside the house probably talking about me in past tense terms.    I am hungry and have no idea how to find my own food!  What’s an old feline to do?   A mouse runs by me.  Did I just hear it snicker?  I start to whine.
  • 8:15 p.m.: I crawl out from under the porch.   My feelings are extremely  hurt.   This is Senior Feline abuse!  Who the hell leaves their old house cat outside?  I find the door and scratch it.  Yes!  Long, thin scratches.  The paint instantly peals off of the door in sheets.  I have made my mark.  But no one comes to the door to let me in.
  • 9:00 p.m.: I am crying and scratching at the door.  Still, no one comes to let me in the house.  Are they going to let me die out here?
  • 11:00 p.m.: I have given up.  I decide that I will freeze to death.  Just as I have resigned myself that I am about to lose the remaining 8 of my lives, a light goes on.  The door opens and my keeper scoops me up in her arms.   I purr with relief that she has found me and brought me inside.
  • 11:01 p.m.: That’s enough love for her!   I look at her with pure hate, hiss and dig my front claws into the Keeper’s arm.  She screams. All is right with the world.  I climb up onto the leather couch, dig my claws into the soft hide.  I curl up and go to sleep.
Another successful day has come to an end.

The “Beast” the humans call “Maya.”

This blog post was inspired by the great “Mama Kat’s Losin It” workshop.  Please click on the link for other fantastic articles from fabulous writers including Mama Kat. 

Hairbrush Stuck In Your Hair?  How To Get Free.

Hairbrush Stuck In Your Hair? How To Get Free.

Help!  There is a hairbrush stuck in my head and I can’t get it out!  Do you have any idea how painful this is? It’s almost as bad as having a baby with no anesthesia.  (I said almost.) Who knew that an innocent plastic, round brush with plastic bristles could cause me such anguish? Of course,  I had just 15 minutes to get dressed and do my hair before my family is supposed to go out for dinner.  And the more I pulled, the more the brush adhered to my head.  This was torture–the worst kind– self administered! And, sorry, even if I wanted to…at the time that this picture was taken, there was NO WAY I could vlog about this experience.

Who needs water boarding when you can have a plastic brush pulling your hair out one by one miserable strand?

Help!  There's something in my hair!

Help! There’s something in my hair!

Don’t ask me how I got the brush stuck in my hair. Something about having fine hair but a lot of it?  All I can tell you is my first inclination was to get a pair of kitchen shears (you know the kind with which you use to cut raw chicken?) and cut off the offending section of hair. So, I did the next best thing; I called Adam and asked for help.  When he arrived in the bathroom (without a pair of scissors) Adam couldn’t help but laugh. I guess the image of me with a brush adhered to my head was too much for him.  But he sobered up as soon as I started crying and begging that he (a) call my mother to get advice about what to do and (b) cut my hair.  He refused to do both stating quite simply that my mother wouldn’t have a clue how to help me and  he was not going to be responsible for my looking like an 80’s rock star.

We called Adam’s hair stylist in Chicago–did I mention that we were in Florida when this trauma occurred?  And left a message on his voicemail.  So much for getting professional help.  We tried “googling” a solution and came up with a variety of answers most of which ended with cutting out the hair.  Finally, we patched together a solution:

Items You’ll Need:

• Baby oil

• Knitting Needle/”Rat tail” comb

• Wide tooth comb

• Shampoo

• Conditioner

The Process: 

1  Find a sympathetic friend who is willing to help you. (At this point, it is also helpful for your friend to bring you a shot or two of whisky or tequila–unless of course if you are under age–or a few Tylenol because this is going to be a really long and arduous process.)

2.  Apply a generous amount of oil (preferably baby) to the tangled area. Dab the oil on the tangle with your fingers but be careful not to rub the hair and tangle it more.

3. Getting strands out takes some time so you’ll need to be patient:

  • Stick the tip of the knitting needle or rat tail comb about 1/4 inch into the end of the brush below the hair & insert it on an upward angle between the bristles so the end pokes out through the hair.  
  • Gently pull and tug upward at the tiny strand and slide the end of the comb back and forth beneath it. 
  • Keep loosening the strand until the end slides out of the bristles.

4. Keep the end of the sharp point underneath the strand of hair and grasp the end of the strand with your fingers. Push away from the end of the strand while lifting it up and away from the brush by the ends.

5. Once a strand is free: Clip it with a bobby pin as not to re-tangle it. (And now for the lengthy part of the process.) Repeat the same procedure you used for the first strand until most of the hair is free or you just can’t stand the pain.  

6. Hopefully most of the hair has come out of the hairbrush and you are left with a matted, knotty strand of greasy, oily hair.

7. Hop in the shower and set it to the highest possible temperature that you can stand.  Lather the hair with conditioner (BE GENEROUS!) and practice some deep breathing exercises as you wait for the conditioner to penetrate your messy hair.  Now use a wide tooth comb to untangle the matted hair.  Gently comb out the knots from the ends working your way upwards as the knots untangle

8. Once the knots are out and you are finally free from the brushes of bondage, rinse everything out of your hair.  Now wash your hair with (preferably) a deep clarifying shampoo. It may take several shampoos to remove all of the oil and conditioner from your hair.

9. Rinse and repeat as many times as needed until your hair is squeaky clean. Finish with a deep conditioner to seal the damaged areas.

We have all done some really stupid things in our time.  Case and point? The forehead hickey Lulu got a few years ago from sticking a small plunger (meant to hold my iPod) on her face: http://windycitymomma.com/2011/07/20/an-unexpected-forehead-hickey.  I guess it was just my turn to do something idiotic, huh?  Watch out Adam!  You’re next!