The Secret Lives of Cats

Hi, everyone. This is Katie, Renée's cat. Renée is trying to recover from her day (doctor's appointment, complete with four painful shots; work, complete with difficult customers; and a dead car battery), so I'm taking over her blog for the night. No, I did not get this idea from author Meg Cabot's blog entries by Britney Spears. Anyhow, here's how my average day goes.

I woke up this early this morning. It was raining, and no one else was awake yet. Since that meant I couldn't play with/get food from anyone, I decided to go back to sleep. I must admit, though, that I first contemplated jumping onto Renée's bed, biting her, and leaving, which I've done in the past. (It was great fun, especially when she had to go all the way downstairs in the dark at midnight to find bandaids and Neosporin.) Unfortunately, Renée began sleeping with her door shut a couple years ago, and since then I've had no opportunity to bite-and-run. I do have fun slinking into her room before she goes to sleep, letting her get all cozy in bed, and then crying to be let out. She comes up with the most creative insults this way.

At any rate, I went back to sleep. Renée woke up to go jogging, and I saw my golden opportunity. She came down the stairs looking like a wreck (no contacts, hair in ponytail, wearing shorts and tank top with white sneakers and - gag me - black socks. I'm a cat, and even I understand what kind of fashion gaffe this is.). Anyway, I followed her, meowing. She snapped, "Not now, Katie, I'm busy." I sat on the stairs and offered up my most pitiful meows, but the cold-hearted witch was not swayed. She put in her iPod and left. I hoped that she got chased by every dog in the neighborhood.

I laid down on the stairs in the sun to heal my injured spirits. I was hungry! I hadn't eaten for a whole...three hours! I might waste away by the time she got back.

But when she returned half an hour later, looking even grosser than when she'd left, I meowed again. She cooed, "Hi, Katie Cat!" in the most irritatingly chipper voice possible. (I'd say it was because of the endorphins, but this is the voice she always uses with me.) She went on though, going, "Aww you hungwy? Oh, who's my big hungwy kitty?! Do you want some food? "

Wanting food? Me? Whatever gave you that idea? Was it when I sat by my food bowl and cried?!

She shoveled out a minuscule amount of cat food and patted me on the head before going off to take a shower. I ate half a mouthful of food and realized I wasn't that hungry after all.

When our paths crossed again, she was back in a bad mood. I was patiently waiting on the stairs to play our favorite game, one that I have entitled Slap the Hell Out of the Humans' Hands Through the Slats on the Staircase, or SHOHHTSS for short. She let me get a couple slaps in, but then lectured me: "NO. BITING. THAT'S. BAD. BAD CAT. NO." Then she left. She really ought to recheck the rules; if she did, she'd know that bites are worth 80 thousand bonus points. SO she really can't blame me for my mad skillz.

I didn't see her again until the evening, and her mood was back to annoyingly chipper. "Who's my pretty kitty?" she gushed as soon as she saw me lounging on the bed, resting from the exercise I almost considered partaking in today. "Who's the pretty kitty?!"

Um, I am. I'm the "pretty kitty" every time you ask this stupid question.

Every. Freaking. Time.

I think she may have a personality disorder. Why else would she switch so quickly from annoyed to loving? Maybe humans don't consider six hours to be a short amount of time. Maybe to them, it's a sufficient amount of time for mood changes. But that's silly. I mean, these are the same creatures that think eight hours of sleep is plenty. They clearly need to straighten out their priorities.

Anyway, I was sick of her mood issues and gushing, so I left. I'm now off to go sleep on the bathroom rug, right next to the door, so that if she goes to the bathroom in the middle of the night she'll notice me and maybe feed me, play with me, or fill a Dixie bathroom cup with water and let me drink it/splash it all over the floor. First, though, I'll throw up right here next to the computer. On the white carpet. This will be EPIC.

Good night!