Thursday, May 12, 2005

Why Do I Have To Be The Bad Cop?

So last night I get home and Bugsy’s cone is lying on the bed, with no cat in it. It turns out Michael took it off yesterday because it looked to him like Bugsy’s ears were okay. I wanted to wait at least until today, because I thought they looked a little too pink still.

Now as it turns out, the cat’s ears do look okay and Michael said he didn’t see him scratching. But the thing is I’ve been the one, taking the cone off, cleaning the ears, shoving pills down his throat, putting the cone back on and listening to the crying and whining the whole time. I’m the bad guy. I do the shitty work, and Michael gets to be the hero. What the hell?

So I get home and Bugsy hides under the bed cause he thinks I’m gonna re-cone him. But I’m not. So I tell Michael, “okay but you give him his pill tonight.” He says sure but then he decides he needs to go out to the grocery store at 9:30pm. But we have to give the cat his pill by 10pm. So of course, I have to struggles with a crying, pissed off cat yet again. Trying to pry his little jaws open without breaking them, while I hold his little body in a leg lock. No sooner do I get the pill down his throat, Michael is back. (How convenient.)

So he’s bringing the groceries in and Bugsy decides to get back at me by pooping on the carpet in the living room. Not big, just two little nuggets placed right where he knows I’ll see ‘em. So I clean it up and I fuss at him. And 2 minutes later I catch him in the act depositing another little nugget in the same spot. This time I really yell at him. He just sits there with this “so what” look on his face. That pisses me off cause he’s not even cowering before my rage.

So I pick him up, carry his squirming body to the litter box and put him in it, yelling the whole way. As soon as my back is turned he steps out of the litter box and deposits another nugget outside of the litter box…just four inches away!! – I didn’t discover it until later. He comes back in the living room and starts making like he’s gonna drop a few more nuggets. I’m standing over him yelling “don’t even think about it mister! You go to your litter box. You know better! I will not tolerate this sort of behavior!!” But he’s still posturing like “screw you, you pill-nazi-cone-fascist, I’ll poop wherever I please, and you’ll clean it up!”

Then Michael comes in and I’m yelling at the cat. I tell him what Bugsy’s doing. He sees him getting ready to drop a nugget, grabs him, carries him back to the litter box, yelling at him the whole way. Of course, this time the little creep, gets in the box and poops and then runs away (without covering the poop so the smell hits you).

God! This is it, isn’t it? This is a foretaste of parenthood. I’ll be the one playing bad cop and Dad will let them off the hook. Then they’ll take it out on me and I’ll have to rely on Michael to fix it. Jeez! I’m gonna sign myself up for a parenting class. I need skills to handle this without becoming an abusive parent. Or an abusive pet owner for that matter.

I told Michael he is DEFINITELY giving Bugsy his pill tonight cause I’m not cleaning up any more carpet poops. Michael said if Bugsy tries a repeat performance of last night he’s gonna be the only flying cat in the neighborhood.

Well at least Otis did not jump on my stomach last night. Since his brother is on my bad side he knows he doesn't need to vie for my attention for a while.


Sara said...

OMG, that's some funny shit (no pun intended). I laughed my ass off at this because I have always been a cat person. Before we had kids, we had 2 cats, both male like yours. Katnip and Chopper. They were a total hoot and like yours, our trial run at parenting.
I was so attached to those cats that when I was pregnant, I had dreams that my kids were born and were either the cats, or were human but had a strong resemblance to the cats. Weird.
Sadly, after the babies were born, my cats got jealous, started peeing on everything even though they were both neutered. It was more than I could deal with, taking care of twins on my own and dealing with the cat's antics, so we turned them from outdoors part time to outdoors full time. It wasn't long before they disappeared. We still don't know what happened to them. They were tough as nails so I'm pretty sure they didn't die and they disappeared at the same time, so we like to think they found another (kid-free) home.

Sara said...

Oh, and by the way, we have a new cat now, her name is Foofoo. She was kid tested before we got her so we knew she wouldn't attack the kids or poddy everywhere. We even got her trained to go outside because I hate cleaning litter boxes. I figure I clean up enough shit from the kids.
I think we love this cat even more than we loved the other two.

Girl With An Alibi said...

Yeah, I wonder how they'll take it once we have kids. I worry more about them falling love with a new baby and trying to sleep on it they way they sleep on us at night. A 10lb cat on an 8lb baby may not be compatible. But I'll just have to wait and see. For now I'll just be checking my shoes for little nugget-surprises whenever I piss them off.

Dex2177 said...

oh... babies and cats... lol...

When I was really young we had a cat who's name was Kitten. The cat's name was Kitten because, being new to the language, I would always point and say "Kitten!". That cat bore the brunt of other young childhood discoveries like my wrapping both hands around the cats neck and squeezing and as the cat gasped for air I would say "Look! Kittum tongue!" Then of course there was the obligatory haircut which involved cutting off all of the cat's whiskers... so... it's probably not the baby who will need so much of the protecting when it comes to the cats, lol. (Kitten lived until I was about 20, she was black and part siamese(only known to us by the litter of kittens she produced and her long whiiiiiine of a meow). Her demise was sad though, because she always had that whining meow and showed up at the fridge for cheese all her years we didn't realize that in her old age she couldn't eat regular cat food and she died, to a certain extent I expect, from mal-nutrition. Very sad, but the moral is that if your old cat always seems to be showing up at the fridge for handouts check and make sure it's still eating regular food!)

Tchau compadres.

Girl With An Alibi said...

That's a good point. They pretty much run from any humanoid under 4 feet tall. Michael's nephews indoctrinated them pretty young. And I have also managed to train them not to sleep on my laptop. You can actually see them pause just before stepping on it, and then take a different path. I suppose training them not to jump on a baby, should be pretty easy.