These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
Tuesday, April 03, 2012
Sometimes I feel like just giving up
It's disconcerting to be outmaneuvered by a skinny beige cat. And yet Reynaldo beats me, and beats me down, every time.
Lately he has decided to awaken me in the middle of the night -- usually between 2 and 3 am. He eats my hair. He meows. He pulls on my lower lip with his paw. He knocks everything off my dresser. He does whatever he can to wake me up.
He wants me to feed and play with him. If I do this so he'll leave me alone, he will do it again the next night. And the next. Trust me, I know.
He is not hungry. I always find the meager remnants of his dinner in his bowl when I give him breakfast. He just would prefer a cat treat or canned food to his kibble. And he's not lonely. He has two other cats and a box of toys to amuse him while I sleep. He doesn't need me. He just wants me.
Last night we went through our little routine, with him misbehaving and me yelling, and finally I just tossed him out of the bedroom and closed him -- and the other two cats -- out. And, unintentionally, away from the litter box that is tucked out of sight in the back of my walk-in closet.
So this morning when I woke up, I found catshit on my kitchen floor. Gee, thanks! And cat urine on one of my handbags -- that'll teach me to forget to hang it on the chair -- and on my bathmat.
Maybe now that Reynaldo is older (he just turned 8), his dietary needs have changed and he truly isn't getting enough of the food he likes. Or maybe he's just fucking willful. At any rate, I'm going to give him a midnight snack before I retire. Not Joey -- though he's sweet, he's already too chunky and I worry about the impact his weight has on his health. But Miss Thing herself, Charlotte, can partake in a dollop of canned food too, if she'd like.
I've got to come up with something. We can't go on like this!
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I feel your frustration. For as much as I love Maggie, she is demanding. And you've got three fur-people to contend with.
ReplyDeleteyou don't see me smiling do you :0)
ReplyDeleteI could not be a cat person. But I salute those who are. What a saga.
ReplyDeleteI can empathize. Our litter boxes have always been behind a cupboard somewhere, in common space, and the cats were never invited onto the beds. Hell, they get enough attention during lap time watching TV! We don't have cats currently but look forward to the day when we can pick up two from the shelter again. Sorry about your purse. Throw it away; it's beyond redemption. In sympathy, Amy
ReplyDeleteI know how you feel. My own dear Miss Kitty has been a ball of misbehaving lately. We've had to shut her out of my room at night, too. Maybe the dietary change will help. Good luck!
ReplyDelete