All grown up

Time goes by too fast. So fast that I forgot to have that important talk with my youngest kid about the evils of premarital sex. It’s a good thing she’s only a cat.

Is it possible that it has already been almost five months since I brought that tiny little kitten home from work? It seems like only a few weeks have passed since she was starving for a bottle full of kitten formula, but now she’s hungry for something entirely different. Unfortunately for us and every living thing within a 5 mile radius, our “kitten” is in heat.

It started one day last week. I noticed that she was incessantly licking herself and making strange noises – something between a meow and a purr that resembles the sound one would expect from a chipmunk. Being the ever-doting parent, I immediately placed her in the cat carrier and whisked her to the vet’s office for a checkup. You can imagine my surprise when I was told that she might be going into heat. I assured the vet that she was only around four months old, but a quick check of her records showed that she will soon be six months of age.

Since the holidays are quickly approaching and we wouldn’t have been able to give her our undivided attention while she recuperated, I scheduled her surgery for the 27th. In the meantime, we have to live with the antics of a feline who acts like she’s on Ecstacy.

I tend to humanize my pets, often referring to them as my children, talking to them as if they understand English, and sparing no expense on doctor’s visits and food. You can’t possibly comprehend how much it bothers me when my male cat, Twinkie, tries to mate with his “sister.” Even though he’s fixed and seems clueless about what he’s doing (I never had “the talk” with him, either), it sickens me that two of my kids are trying to reproduce. Ugh.

Macy Gray drives us crazy at all hours of the night – rolling around, making that annoying chipmunk sound, sticking her butt in the air. We’ve taken to affectionately calling her “Mommy’s little whore” or “Daddy’s little slut”, but she doesn’t seem to care.

I tried to talk some sense into her this evening when I explained that in a little over one week from now she will go to the vet to have her insides scooped out. I hoped that she would take our little chat to heart and stop the hormonal antics, but she promptly left my lap and began rolling around on the floor with all four legs in the air.

Damn cat.

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The cat people

I never thought I’d have three cats in the house. Two maybe, but never more.

We started with Blu, a shelter rescue that we fell in love with via pictures posted on Petfinder.com. After several months had gone by, we got Twinkie from a coworker. We had two “kids” that could keep each other company when we were out of the house and we figured that was that. Then Macy Gray came into our lives.

When I first brought her home, it was out of pure necessity. I had to save this kitten and make sure that she was going to be properly cared for. I figured that we would be able to find a good home for her and we’d go back to being a two-cat household. Things have a way of not always working out as planned.

We’ve had her over four weeks already and she’s growing like a weed. Honey continually reminds me that I promised we’d find her a new home, but I can’t seem to gather the courage to hang a flyer anywhere. I know that vet bills and upkeep for three cats will be rather expensive, and that there will be more cat hair to vacuum and litter to scoop, but the thought of her being mistreated makes me cringe. Even the idea of her being outside in the heat is enough to make me want to keep her.

So, for now, we are officially the cat people. No one may ever want to come to our house for dinner, but they’ll understand our predicament when they see Macy Gray’s precious mug!

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Meet Macy Gray

A guy walked into my office this morning carrying a darling kitten and announced, “If no one wants this cat, I’m going to kill it.” Yeah, real classy.

I asked where it came from and he said it was in his truck this morning when he got to work. Apparently, one of the many cats that he owns (and allows to breed uncontrollably) decided to put her kitten in the back of his pickup during the night. After he reaffirmed his intentions to “knock the cat in the head”, I, completely appalled, told him to hand it to me.

Within a few minutes, my foreman came into the office and told me that if I didn’t want to keep it, he would take it home to his son. That was fine by me, since I simply don’t need another pet to take care of.

It soon became apparent that this kitten wasn’t weaned yet, even though it has a nice set of baby teeth. My attempts to get her to drink milk from a saucer resulted in her nearly drowning herself, and she constantly tried to nurse from the tips of my fingers.

After talking to my foreman about this development, we decided that I should take the kitten home and bottle-feed her until she is on solid food. Then, if I’m not too attached, he can take her to his son.

After taking her home, bathing her, and giving her some formula through a bottle, she settled in for a nice long nap. She’s a real cutie and I’ve decided to name her “Macy Gray”.

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