Archive for September 1st, 2006

The One Where I Talk About How Much I Hate My Cats

I was reading Ms. Coble’s post about her cat that she loved that died and rose again…kinda like the Lord. I am feeling sorta kinda bad that I don’t have the same affection for the cats at my house.

The Smiffs have two cats. Their names are Emily and Crystal. They are housecats. Emily is a cute, little tortoiseshell and Crystal is black and white. I hate them both. I just do. They never go outside (Mr. Smiff fears they will get smashed), they are more destructive than any dog I’ve ever own.

Not only are they destructive, but, they nag. They start their nagging me early in the morning when I get up. They want to be fed. They won’t shut up til you feed them. They get on the counters. They knock trash over. They lick garbage bags and drive me crazy doing that.

Obivous that I’m not into them, but, who do they most love to cuddle up against in the middle of the night?? Yep. Me. I think they do that just to piss me off. It works.

Mr. Smiff and #1 Son are the ones in the house who REALLY love the cats. The Dawta and #2 love them, but, #1 is the one that’s really tight with them. If they disappeared to never be seen again, I would not be sad. Sorry.

I did not grow up with cats in the house because I was allergic to them. Terribly allergic. Everytime we’d go to San Antonio, we’d stay at my Uncle Charles and Aunt June’s house. June was a cat freak. Loved them. Everytime we’d go to San Antonio (twice a year) I would get sick and they’d have to haul me to the doctor. It never clicked with what made me sick until I was about 13 and spent the night at Kathy Burgess’s house. She had this cute little kitten that I was unusually attracted to and my eyes swelled up and we put it all together. (My folks were quick!) As long as I don’t touch them they don’t bother me. Every so often I will get swollen eyes because they’re just around but I do ok allergy-wise as long as I don’t mess with them. Because I hate these cats, me messing with them is not a problem.

The Smiffs first cat found us. Mr. Smiff went outside one morning to find a teeny, calico kitten sleeping on his tire. We had no idea where she came from. One of her eyes was messed up badly. It looked like it had been gouged out. She was malnourished and just so tiny. We named her “Stella” (I like people names for pets). She was with us for about 6 years. She was never healthy. Probably because she was separated from her mother too soon. She was a great cat though. She kept to herself. Every now and then she’d come out and want you to pet her then she’d go on about her business.

Emily and Crystal wrestle, they scratch, they get all hyper and jump to the top of door frames, they wake you up in the middle of the night trying to open the door….they drive me nuts. I threaten at least twice a day to get rid of them. They’ll try to sneak out the front door and I always say one of these days I’m going to say “Oops…cats got out. Tis a tragedy.” I don’t like them and wish they’d go away.

I know some of the cat lovers will tell me all I’m doing wrong as a cat owner but the bottom line is I don’t like them, but, I’m overruled in the house. I like a nice, quiet cat. These cats are psychotic.

I’ve Gotta Get A Message To You

Ginger at GingerSnaps and I share a love of Brothers Gibb and she has reminded us that today Big Brother Barry is….ok, this will make you feel old…..60 years old.

I’ve written of my undying love of the Bee Gees so I won’t belabor that point. The thing that makes me feel old is that back in their heyday, say around, 1978, he was, like, 32, which is five years younger than I am now. That doesn’t seem that long ago and now he’s just about eligible for the Senior Discount at Shoney’s.
Happy Birthday Mista Gibb!