Moody cat jumped up on the dressers.
Moody cat got sprayed with water by Dad.
Moody cat snuggled on me.
Moody cat refused food from Dad and sat in the bedroom doorway as I got dressed.
Moody cat don’t want none of your shit, Dad. -_-
– a poem, dedicated to Jonathan. aka Dad.
Our princess has discovered a new place to bite: my upper arm. =/
Last week, we almost lost Lucy.
Jonathan came home late from a work engagement and she slipped out into the dark. It was cold that night.
We stayed up talking that night discussing random things: how late it was, how I wanted to take up the ukulele, etc. Lucy wasn’t in the bedroom. It was pretty late when we finally fell asleep…maybe 12:30-ish. Still no Lucy in the bed.
Usually after we settle down she comes back and picks a spot either between my legs or under my left armpit. Lucy wasn’t there when I woke up.
I got up, got ready, moved into the living room to find her. She wasn’t in the window. I looked in the bathroom, under the sink (she likes cupboards), and in every laundry pile. No dice.
She was outside and had spent the whole night outside under the apartment building under our bedroom.
Jonathan and I had stayed up late talking that night, so we can only assume that she heard us and got as close as she possibly could. The poor little fur-ball was not amused. Not amused at all.
She’s still not amused and a little more on the wiley side, bitey, and excessively needy (more than usual).
I shouldn’t be surprised by this, but I live in a very cat-dense neighborhood. An 11 block walk will yield at least 5 cat sightings. Luckily, Lucy is afraid of the outside. Her curiosity of course doesn’t impede her desire to rush out the front door. Cat-knapping is a thing in this town. Hipster mentality? We have 1 cat. I wouldn’t mind another, but I’m not going to steal one off the streets because I feel like I’d be a better cat owner than the cat’s actual owner.
1 fuzz-bucket and 1 husband is enough hair and fur for me for now.
So my Lucy-Goose does not specifically attack my yarn stash. What she does attack: whatever she sees out of the corner of her eye.
I have many balls of yarn, a few cones of yarn, and various partially completed knitted items all over the couch, behind the couch, and on my desk. Lucy, being the weirdo that she is, has never stalked and attacked any of these things. If anything she takes every opportunity available to lay on top of my arms when engaged in the act of knitting. Of course with the intention of getting attention. On the occasion that I am winding yarn, she will monitor the progress of the swift. Usually there is a tiny bit of yarn at the end that hangs down. The jagged movement of this piece of yarn is usually what catches her eye. The only other time she goes after the yarn is if I mindlessly throw within her field of vision.
Ears perk up. Eyes dilate. Claws come out. Must. Get. Thingy. Must. GET. THINGY!!!!!!!!!
Married: 1 month down? Not exactly. Closer to 3 weeks.
How is Lucy taking it?
She’s peeved at the mountains of gift boxes, she’s peeved that I didn’t give her any chicken. Upside? I found her dynamite catnip toy. Up-Up side (which is also an ‘eww’ side) she has sufficiently drooled all over it. In reality being married to her original human has not changed the dynamic between us. She still purrs and scratches and eats and sleeps and poops and meows and chirps and barks and all the other cat habits. It’s nice to know that in the animal kingdom our awkward human rituals mean absolutely nothing to them. My relationship with Jonathan has, if anything, gotten better since we were married. Yeah it’s only been 3 weeks, but marriage really does change people. What one does not what to do is change expectations. Expectations is where it is most likely to fall apart…like expecting Jonathan to be excited for me to officially adopt Lucy as my own fur-daughter…chyea right…Wut-ever, I do what I want.