More on StupidFuckingCat
Today (and for that matter, this week) was not a good day (week) to be StupidFuckingCat.
I suppose that I should establish a few things:
1. I do not like cats. I don't think they make suitable housepets, and frankly, they bug the hell out of me.
2. BUT, I can like an individual cat, and also feel that they, as sentient beings, deserve some respect and humane treatment.
3. I fucking can't stand Cat People- you know they type: they are completely unwilling to acknowledge that cats aren't the best thing ever...They fucking own T-shirts with cats on them, etc etc.
4. I very much feel that StupidFuckingCat would not exist if she were mine, and for as much shit as I give Boyfriend about her, I would be really sad for like...an hour or something, if he decided to put her down.
That being said, we had ANOTHER fight over StupidFuckingCat. It started when I realized that I had TWICE IN A ROW had to wake up to the nauseating smell of cat shit at 4:30 AM and then sleep on the couch. I mentioned that I wanted something to happen...Naturally, there was a huge fucking fight. We have a fairly small place: one bedroom, one den, one full bathroom, one tiny bathroom (closet), a living room, a kitchen and a dining area. Therefore, there are very few places for the litterbox to live.
It can't be in the dining area/kitchen area because Boyfriend and I both agree that cat shit near food is disgusting. It can't be in the living room because, really, there is no room for it. It can't go in the full bathroom because there is barely room to turn around, let alone room for a litter pan. The bedroom is a bad place for the same reason that the current placement is bad: I don't like waking up to the smell of cat shit. So, to me, the answer is to keep the cat box in the den: if he loves her so much, he can let her shit next to the desk that he rarely uses.
But (and I just love this) he doesn't want the dust from the cat litter to be on the canvas boxes that hold his CD's. I got really bitchy when he said that: I said "no, really, I get it. You don't give a shit that I wake up every morning and need to throw up because of the scent...And then can't even sleep in my own bed. But, you do really mind if some dust gets on the protective boxes that cover the protective cases on your CD's."
To which he started to argue that I should will myself to not smell the cat shit. I fucking lost it.
Will myself to not gag over the smell of cat shit? I'm sorry...fucking no. This is not a voluntary reaction. I will, however, will myself to make sure the vomit lands on his fucking chest.
So, all in all, the fight started at 11:00 PM and by 4:30 AM, we had stopped talking about cat shit and involuntary reactions and settled on a tentative course of action. We'll see if anything happens...But I promise you that if I have to wake up one more time at some ridiculous hour and get kicked out of my bed by the fucking houseparasite, "shit fit" (while appropriately named) doesn't even touch what I will do.
Anyway, out of concern for the fact that StupidFuckingCat is overly aggressive, I hypothesized that perhaps the fact that Boyfriend kept her nails so short led to her aggression. Declawed cats bite more...Perhaps having her nails really short has somehow led her to behave as though she doesn't have them.
So, rather than cutting her nails once/week, Boyfriend has let it go for 3 weeks or so, and today decided to give her a little trim.
She freaked out and clawed and bit him worse than ever before- and frankly, that's amazing. He came out of the bedroom bloody and covered with punctures and scratches. Boyfriend decided that keeping such a beast was, really, borderline retarded...And he had some kind of un-cat person epiphany, and opened the sliding glass door and put the cat outside while yelling at her.
Here's the thing: I would put that thing down in a heartbeat...But I wouldn't release it into the neighborhood: mostly because there would be no real confirmation of the fact that she was dead. That, and...I know her stupid ass could never catch anything to eat, and she would die a long and painful death by starvation. That, or she'd get run over by a car- she's really just very retarded.
So, while he was fuming in the other room, I brought the cat back in and continued making lunch. He noticed the door was no longer open, and I explained that I brought her back in- we discussed the merits of taking her evil ass back to the crazy cat lady that got Boyfriend to take StupidFuckingCat home in the first place.
I stuck up for StupidFuckingCat and bought her at least a week. I feel guilty- as though this whole thing was my fault. I was the one that suggested stretching out the clipping schedule that I think might have disrupted the schedule that she kept and somehow convinced her that acting out was appropriate. I also have worn Boyfriend down on her, mostly by constantly bitching about her. I really do bitch about her all the fucking time. I don't care that he knows that I hate his cat.
We'll see what happens to StupidFuckingCat in the future. I hope she can get her shit together, because I don't think Boyfriend has the balls to get rid of her...And certainly not to put her down. Methinks I'll have to deal with her shit until she dies of natural causes....Is drowning a natural cause?
I suppose that I should establish a few things:
1. I do not like cats. I don't think they make suitable housepets, and frankly, they bug the hell out of me.
2. BUT, I can like an individual cat, and also feel that they, as sentient beings, deserve some respect and humane treatment.
3. I fucking can't stand Cat People- you know they type: they are completely unwilling to acknowledge that cats aren't the best thing ever...They fucking own T-shirts with cats on them, etc etc.
4. I very much feel that StupidFuckingCat would not exist if she were mine, and for as much shit as I give Boyfriend about her, I would be really sad for like...an hour or something, if he decided to put her down.
That being said, we had ANOTHER fight over StupidFuckingCat. It started when I realized that I had TWICE IN A ROW had to wake up to the nauseating smell of cat shit at 4:30 AM and then sleep on the couch. I mentioned that I wanted something to happen...Naturally, there was a huge fucking fight. We have a fairly small place: one bedroom, one den, one full bathroom, one tiny bathroom (closet), a living room, a kitchen and a dining area. Therefore, there are very few places for the litterbox to live.
It can't be in the dining area/kitchen area because Boyfriend and I both agree that cat shit near food is disgusting. It can't be in the living room because, really, there is no room for it. It can't go in the full bathroom because there is barely room to turn around, let alone room for a litter pan. The bedroom is a bad place for the same reason that the current placement is bad: I don't like waking up to the smell of cat shit. So, to me, the answer is to keep the cat box in the den: if he loves her so much, he can let her shit next to the desk that he rarely uses.
But (and I just love this) he doesn't want the dust from the cat litter to be on the canvas boxes that hold his CD's. I got really bitchy when he said that: I said "no, really, I get it. You don't give a shit that I wake up every morning and need to throw up because of the scent...And then can't even sleep in my own bed. But, you do really mind if some dust gets on the protective boxes that cover the protective cases on your CD's."
To which he started to argue that I should will myself to not smell the cat shit. I fucking lost it.
Will myself to not gag over the smell of cat shit? I'm sorry...fucking no. This is not a voluntary reaction. I will, however, will myself to make sure the vomit lands on his fucking chest.
So, all in all, the fight started at 11:00 PM and by 4:30 AM, we had stopped talking about cat shit and involuntary reactions and settled on a tentative course of action. We'll see if anything happens...But I promise you that if I have to wake up one more time at some ridiculous hour and get kicked out of my bed by the fucking houseparasite, "shit fit" (while appropriately named) doesn't even touch what I will do.
Anyway, out of concern for the fact that StupidFuckingCat is overly aggressive, I hypothesized that perhaps the fact that Boyfriend kept her nails so short led to her aggression. Declawed cats bite more...Perhaps having her nails really short has somehow led her to behave as though she doesn't have them.
So, rather than cutting her nails once/week, Boyfriend has let it go for 3 weeks or so, and today decided to give her a little trim.
She freaked out and clawed and bit him worse than ever before- and frankly, that's amazing. He came out of the bedroom bloody and covered with punctures and scratches. Boyfriend decided that keeping such a beast was, really, borderline retarded...And he had some kind of un-cat person epiphany, and opened the sliding glass door and put the cat outside while yelling at her.
Here's the thing: I would put that thing down in a heartbeat...But I wouldn't release it into the neighborhood: mostly because there would be no real confirmation of the fact that she was dead. That, and...I know her stupid ass could never catch anything to eat, and she would die a long and painful death by starvation. That, or she'd get run over by a car- she's really just very retarded.
So, while he was fuming in the other room, I brought the cat back in and continued making lunch. He noticed the door was no longer open, and I explained that I brought her back in- we discussed the merits of taking her evil ass back to the crazy cat lady that got Boyfriend to take StupidFuckingCat home in the first place.
I stuck up for StupidFuckingCat and bought her at least a week. I feel guilty- as though this whole thing was my fault. I was the one that suggested stretching out the clipping schedule that I think might have disrupted the schedule that she kept and somehow convinced her that acting out was appropriate. I also have worn Boyfriend down on her, mostly by constantly bitching about her. I really do bitch about her all the fucking time. I don't care that he knows that I hate his cat.
We'll see what happens to StupidFuckingCat in the future. I hope she can get her shit together, because I don't think Boyfriend has the balls to get rid of her...And certainly not to put her down. Methinks I'll have to deal with her shit until she dies of natural causes....Is drowning a natural cause?
posted by iconoclastical at 12:10 AM
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