Cats


I totally forgot I had this option for easy blogging!

Longcat is photogenic.

Twitter got a cute picture yesterday, so here’s one for the blog:

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This is RoundCat, who would very much like to go outside and chase squirrels.

In the push for re-usuable grocery bags, there is one constant: the cry of cat-owners saying “but then what do I do about the litter?” Turns out, there are tons of other bags that come into the house that actually are much better for cleaning the litter box, because they don’t have all sorts of holes. Bread bags, tortilla bags (especially the reclosable type), the bags inside cereal boxes (or Cheez-Its, if you’re me), potato chip bags, prepared salad bags, vegetable bags. I once cut the top off those air pillows Amazon sends out (the ones for bigger boxes) and used those. This does require me to have twist-ties, but you know, I’m a packrat. I’ve been stockpiling those for years.

Sometimes I wonder if the garbagemen hate me because my trash is largely full of bags of cat litter.

My cats show a clear preference for one litter box over the other, which at least makes me happy that I ridiculously overpaid for it, because I didn’t want to take the time to go to a second store.

I also travel with this box, which on major road trips, involves toting it in and out of motel rooms twice a day. Yes, there are disposable litterboxes, but you know? the last place I want my cats disturbed by unfamiliarity is around the litterbox in a motel room.

My alarm going off is not a signal to come cuddle.

Sitting forlornly on the pillow will not change this.

Especially not when you missed the first alarm, and only showed up after a snooze cycle.

Other bad times to ask for a cuddle—when I have just finished getting dressed. Haven’t you figured out yet that I only get dressed when I am about to leave the house?

But good job on learning that a little drumroll on the back of the couch means I am lying down with an open lap.

I have a confession to make.

I speak gibberish to my cats.

I tried to be crafty, and give them short, vowel-heavy names that were basically gibberish words anyhow, but it’s not enough.

juub, juub. wubba, wubba.

in honor of Moria’s link on previous post.

Dammit, could I stop hijacking Moria’s brain? Why bother to come up with words for my own sentiments when she does it so well?

I cat-blog now only to note that my beautiful, goofy, playful, cosmically delusional, Marlovian kitty has gone a long way toward curing the pains of oversaturation, self-absorption, moral and intellectual panic, and claustrophobia that are the hallmarks of my relationship with academe.

At what point do I lose integrity with this (and this, and this)?

My printer is not an appropriate place to relax.

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