i love this about smudge. it is very little, and not so special, but i love it nonetheless.
when i go to the bathroom, he comes too, and jumps up to the sink. i have to reach over and turn on the water, just a little faster than a trickle - the slowest possible stream. and he sticks his head under the tap, and laps up the water as it pools around the drain before going down.
that's not the part i love.
he just sticks his head under the water to get to the drain, so it hits him right between the ears, and runs off his head to the bottom of the sink. he looks up at me when he's done, and he's got a wet furrow lined with spikes, like a mini mohawk.
that's not it, either.
when he brings his head up, the last bits of water run down his face, over the bridge of his nose, and drip off the tip of his snout. and he squinches up his eyes to look at his nose, and catches every drip on his tongue.
that's it. i love that.
another good catfunny from my cousin:
if this were smudge's map of our bed, there would have to be an area on the bottom half of my side that said something like "humpville".
(i had the vet confirm that smudge was indeed neutered, a procedure smudge particularly disliked. when i asked the doctor why then does smudge still "go to town" on my lower legs almost every night, he answered "because it feels good?")
oh, also, i realized the "launch pad to the dresser" needs to be moved so that it's right over my boobs.
as i sit here typing this, my hands are trembling. those of you who said he will just be so happy to see me, and all will be right with smudge's world...well, i'll give you the benefit of the doubt - either you were lying to make me feel better, or you are eternal cockeyed optimists. you certainly don't know smudge.
the tech brought smudge out in his carrier; at least it looked like smudge. a cowering, flat-eared, bug-eyed, hissing snarling, yowling, growling monster crouched in the corner, swiping at everyone who came near -- including ME! i couldn't even pick the case up; the vet had to show me the safe places to put my arms underneath it where he couldn't reach me between the bars. i've heard the noise smudge was making before - in a nature film of wild panthers.
the ride home was better, he was mostly crying, and that got quieter as we got closer to home. i had to carry him up two flights of stairs, because i was afraid of what he'd do if i put him in the elevator again. we got into the apartment, and i closed the bedroom door (if he's covered in pee, like he smells, i don't want him on my bed) and i opened the carrier in the bathroom.
smudge was afraid to come out, but after sniffing the open top of the carrier, he jumped out, and two big doodyballs plopped onto the floor! smart thinking, letting him out in the bathroom, huh?
he spent a few minutes wandering around, tail fuzzed and twitchy, checking to make sure everything was where he left it. and then, even though the vet has a sign that says not to feed your pet for an hour to let them calm down, i couldn't stop him. he was digging up crumbs of kibble left in the crack under the kitchen molding. so i fed him, and i realized he probably hasn't eaten since yesterday.
it's very quiet here -- i'm going to go look for him. he's probably in the bedroom, curled up into jeff's dirty pants.
tonight i took smudge to the vet. he is way overdue for his shots, and this morning i saw a cut or bruise or pimple on his mouth and i wanted that checked out right away. also, the feliway has stopped working and smudge is back to the panther-growls and hissing at the cleaning woman.
i put him in his carrier, and we were cautiously ok until i stepped on the elevator, which terrifies him. smudge started HOWLING, these deep and weird yowls the likes of which i have never heard, and they continued all the way to the vet. these cries really were breaking my heart, smudge has never been this scared and upset in his whole life.
when i brought him into the vet's waiting room, i noticed smudge had peed in the carrier. i don't know if he peed at some random point in the trip, or if he went as soon as we got on the elevator and he was crying the whole time because he was in his own urine. i wiped the inside with some paper towels, and tried to pat him dry a little, but he was soaked.
i am a horrible mommy.
the vet examined him, said he looks good and healthy, but the thing on his lip has to be removed. so i went home without smudge. and all night i have been tortured by the image of him in a cage surrounded by strange animals and strange people, howling and crying, and getting no sleep, anxious and scared non-stop.
ok, i'm crying again, this is no good.
my god, can you imagine if i had an actual human child?
my cousin sent me this in e-mail, and i am posting it here. she did not include the source, so i cannot give proper credit, but if anyone knows where it came from, i will gladly add that info.
To be posted VERY LOW on the refrigerator door - nose height.
Dear Dogs and Cats,
The dishes with the paw print are yours and contain your
food. The
other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a
paw
print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for
it
becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically
pleasing in the
slightest.
The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a
racetrack.
Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't
help
because I fall faster than you can run.
I cannot buy anything
bigger than a king sized bed. I am very sorry
about this. Do not think I will
continue sleeping on the couch to
ensure your comfort. Dogs and cats can
actually curl up in a ball
when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep
perpendicular to each
other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I
also know that
sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the
other
end to mximize space is nothing but sarcasm.
For the last time,
there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If
by some miracle I beat you
there and manage to get the door shut, it
is not necessary to claw, whine,
meow, try to turn the knob or get
your paw under the edge and try to pull the
door open. I must exit
through the same door I entered. Also, I have been
using the bathroom
for years -- canine or feline attendance is not
required.
The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dog or
cat's
butt. I cannot stress this enough!
To pacify you, my dear pets,
I have posted the following message on
our front door:
To All Non-Pet Owners Who Visit & Like to Complain About Our Pets:
1. They live here. You don't.
2. If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay
off the
furniture. (That's why they call it "fur"nature.f
3. I like my pets a lot better than I like most people.
4. To you, it's an
animal. To me, he/she is an adopted son/daughter
who is short, hairy, walks
on all fours and doesn't speak clearly.
Remember: In many ways, dogs and
cats are better than kids because
they:
1. Eat leftovers
2. Don't ask for money all the time
3. Are easier to train
4. Normally come when called
5. Never ask to drive the car
6. Don't hang out with drug-using friends
7. Don't smoke or drink
8. Don't have to buy the latest fashions
9. Don't want to wear your clothes
10. Don't need a "gazillion" dollars for college.
And finally,
11. If they get pregnant, you can sell their children.
it's 10:50pm, and i'm at my computer. i have other things i should be doing, like taking out the garbage, cleaning up after dinner, putting the dirty laundry in the hamper, hanging up the coats, putting my shoes in my closet, wiping down the kitchen counters...but i'm here at my computer. why?
because jeff is in the living room playing with smudge. and every time i walk into the room, smudge stops playing and sits there, staring at me, until i leave.
i was trying to fold the tablecloth and put it away, and smudge was just sitting like a statue. so jeff spoke up and said, "uh, baby? could you leave? you're kind of cramping our style here." i stopped and looked at smudge, who was clearly just watching me, waiting. you know that blank look people get when you walk into a room and everyone stops and looks at you, because they can't talk/drink/orgy while the big loser party pooper is in the room? yeah, we've all seen that at some point. bet you never thought you'd get it in your own home. FROM YOUR CAT.*
as i walked out of the room, his eyes followed me. and as soon as i disappeared from his view, he spun around and started jumping after that damn piece of fake fur on a string.
so i'm sitting here typing, and i hear the jingle of the little bell, and the tap-tap-tap of it hitting either the carpet or smudge's forehead, and the thump!thump! of smudge landing after flinging himself into the air. and jeff's encouragements: "good boy smudge! you're getting some air there! wheeee!"
they sound like they're having a lot of fun.
so sorry guys, i should have known better than to intrude. don't let my HOUSEWORK get in the way.
---------
*wow, now i remember, how when we were all at a party at my friend's house in college, and stephanie went into a room with matt, who she had a really big thing for, and lauren, her friend, and all three of them got, um, very close, and lauren turned to her and asked her to leave, now i know how stephanie felt. well, okay, not really the same thing, but still rejected anyway.
my well-mannered mother would be embarrassed to hear me say this, but jeff and i eat most of our dinners on the couch, facing the tv, with little tables. for the past few weeks, when we're almost done eating, smudge has been jumping onto the couch next to jeff, and standing with his front paws on jeff's table, surveying the food. it's not to beg for scraps, it's to see if dinnertime is over, and to remind jeff that when he finishes eating, it's time for him to get the toy and play.
now i don't know if the next bit is a behavior that smudge began on his own, or if it was something that jeff started doing and now has become a habit for smudge, but what happens is this:
jeff will say "headbutt" and smudge will tuck in his chin and reach his head over to jeff, who has also lowered his head, and the two of them will sit, forehead to forehead.
i thought this was smudge just tolerating jeff rubbing his head with his own, but it's not. jeff just says "headbutt" and smudge leans in and presses up against his daddy. over and over, and only on command.
you see? how can i stay mad at smudge? when he follows me to the bathroom at 4am, and then as i go back to bed, decides i must be killed, and tries to open the veins in my wrists with his teeth? how can i be mad at the homicidal little monster when he also displays such affection?
well, the easy answer is that the homicide is directed at me and the affection at jeff. but i'm a softie, and i forgive him every time. just don't ask me how i feel at 4:05 am.
that's certainly true in the metaphoric sense -- our lives revolve around his needs, his wants, his amusement, his neuroses -- but in this case, i mean it more literally.
smudge will never be one of those cats who has a favorite anything, like a food, position, person, or place to sleep. he does go through phases where he prefers one over another, but he always bores of it after a while.
the one exception i can find is jeff's pants. jeff is a man (in case you hadn't guessed from the name) and just like many men, he has a pile of dirty clothes on the floor on his side of the room. i'm not criticizing, i'm usually guilty of the same, if not to the extent he is. but anyway, jeff comes home, drops trou, and leaves them right there where they fall. he steps out of them, and they lay there, as if they were standing on their own and a large heavy invisible weight came down and crushed them like an empty beer can. can you picture what i mean? you can even see little circles of carpet at the center of each leg opening.
smudge just loves to climb into those empty pants. he curls up in the crotch and goes to sleep there. this is by far not the grossest thing my cat does (hello, dirty q-tip snacktime) but it is somehow disturbing. maybe it's not the fact that he wants to engulf himself in the aroma of dirty mancrotch. [sorry jeff, you know i can't smell anything, but it must be noticeable to a cat's keen sense of smell.] maybe what really bothers me is the fact that smudge loves his daddy so much, he wants to be so close to him, and he is lulled to sleep in the comfort and security of something that was next to him all day. maybe it makes me feel inadequate as a spouse, that i don't love my husband enough to miss him so much that i would curl up in his dirty jeans just to breathe in his essence?
no, that's not it. it's just that they're dirty pants.
smudge is the most static electricity-generating cat i have ever seen. from november to february, i'm afraid to even touch him. i don't understand how he even lets me pet him, he's got to feel all the shocks. with my other cats, i would only get a shock if i touched skin, like ears or nose or paw. but smudge shocks through his fur.
when i run my hand along his back, it sounds like rice crispies. and if it's in a dark room, like when he sits on me at 4 in the morning and demands i pet him, i can actually see all the little flashes. one night, it lit up the whole room. it's really quite pretty, but again, i don't see how he doesn't find it painful or unpleasant.
last night, jeff was playing the usual game (flick the fur on a stick at the cat rapid-fire a hundred times while smudge tries to grab it in his mouth but usually gets knocked in the face) and smudge laid down on the carpet, which just happened to have a piece of paper lying on it. Ok, you're silently judging me for my sloppy housekeeping, but it was a good thing i was too lazy to pick it up. the day before. ok, ok, four days before.
anyway, smudge laid down on the paper, and due to the fact that he is a massive static electricity power plant, the paper stuck to him. to be precise, it laid across his back over his rump, like a saddle. smudge rolled around, and then got up and walked a little, and that thing was on him like a pair of pants. the best part is, smudge didn't even notice it.
UPDATE: jeff and i came home tonight, and as i must do every time we come home, i bent down as soon as i opened the door and picked up smudge as he tried to run out. i held him against me until jeff and i were both inside and the door was safely closed. the whole time, one of his front legs was against my bare neck, and i got repeated shocks, about two every second, like his pulse. his little electric pulse. zzzap - zzzap - zzzap...
smudge loves playing with his toy. part of it, i'm sure, is the fun he has jumping and flipping and leaping and grabbing the little ball of fur as his daddy flings it as his head, over and over again. but what really motivates him, the metaphorical carrot, is that when he does catch it, and gets a good grip on it, he holds it close and eats it. we've never had a toy last more than a few weeks. it starts out a fluffy blob, and slowly gets smaller and smaller, and slimier and slimier, until it just disappears. that's what smudge really loves.
wherever these toys are made, there is an appalling lack of quality control. the pieces of the handle don't fit together well, they come apart all the time, and the string always comes loose, or loses its elasticity. but that inherent weakness is something smudge counts on.
eventually, something will break and the yummy fur will be loose. daddy won't be able to flick it enticingly in smudge's face, only to yank it away again before smudge can really get it good and licked. and when that happens, smudge is ready. he grabs the fur in his mouth and he is GONE!
he runs into the bedroom, and drops it at his feet, ready to devour it, but he takes a peek over at us, to make sure we haven't noticed his escape. usually, we're running after him, so he snatches it up again, and tries to get further away.
only problem is, he's usually dragging a foot or so of string, and sometimes even several inches of stick. so he may be too fast, or deep under the bed, but we can still grab one end and yank it away. the look on his face - denied! - is absolutely delicious. he's so smart, and yet so stupid.
tonight, he got the fur and ran into the bedroom with jeff after him. he led jeff around the far side of the bed, and then he ran underneath, and out the other side. and there i was, coming down hard. smudge actually did a double-take, and looked so thwarted, poor thing. he knows when he's beat, and gave it up with no struggle.
