The Sundance Kid

I did not mean for today to become a pet-centric post day. However, earlier, I realized my new found love for my newly adopted kitty, and about an hour ago, I found out that my 15 year old min-pin died today at a doggy boarding kennel. He was the small, ankle-biting, yapping type of dog I mentioned in my earlier post, and I loved him dearly. He was my dog.

When I was in 3rd grade, my PE teacher’s dog had puppies, and my parents decided that now was a great time to get me a dog, since I had been begging for one since I was old enough to talk. When we got there, my mom fell completely in love with the runt of the litter. He was tiny, prissy, and would only let you hold him for about 2 minutes before he would suddenly jump down and go do something more important. My mom had to have him. I fell in love with the chubbiest, silliest and laziest of the litter. I picked him up when we first got there, and he was content to just sit in my lap. Forever. I could not leave without this puppy. So, my mom did what any mother would do when confronted with this situation: She got both. Her only condition for this was that she got to name them. And I didn’t mind, she was much more creative in that department than I would ever be anyway. She named them Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. See, I told you.

When I first got him, my mom tried to tell me he couldn’t sleep with me, but I would sneak him up to my room every night (and always be too lazy to wake up early in the morning to take him back downstairs). After awhile, she just gave in. He had this adorable habit of laying under the covers in between my legs. That was his spot. And I could move him, kick him (accidentally, in my sleep, of course) and uncover him, and he would not move. Then when my dad would come to wake me up in the morning, he would growl from his warm hidey-hole under my covers, but not move. Not once. It’s a good thing the person coming into my room was my dad and not a burgler or a kidnapper, cuz Dancer wasn’t going to be doing anything about it.

Through the next 15 years, Sundance would be there…when I was in 4th grade and had a cast on during Spring Break and couldn’t do anything. In 5th grade when I won a trip to a beach house because I sold 800 boxes of Girl Scout Cookies, but couldn’t go because of chicken pox. In 7th grade when I changed schools and had no friends. In 8th grade during my first “real” crush. In highschool, before I could drive, and I was at home during Friday night football games because I lived a half an hour away from school and my parents didn’t want to take me. He was there for me to lay on, to cuddle with and who would listen to me rant during fights with friends, boyfriends, and parents.

It was my first experience with unconditional love.

And I will miss him.

Bi-Polar Cow Kitty

So, in my About section, I said that I like dogs more, but since recently moving in with a cat, that this has changed. Let me explain a few things about this sentence first. I like dogs more because that’s all I’ve been around. My mom hated cats (she used to say she was allergic, but fessed up as I got older), so we never even thought about getting one. We had dogs. And not big dogs…little ankle-biting, yapping dogs (which I am still partial to today).

I didn’t like cats because I was convinced they didn’t like me. They were arrogant and independent. They wouldn’t come when you called, or whistled, or shook the food bag. Because cats don’t need you. Also, they never seemed cuddly. They never seemed to want to curl up in your lap while you watch TV, or listen to you cry or scream when something just wasn’t going your way. They seemed like they would most likely just look at you, then go about their business of washing themselves or, better yet, leave the room.

Little-known fact: I worked for the Humane Society as a volunteer from 7th grade through 10th grade. I would go with them to PetCo every Sunday from 12-3 and have “showcases” where we would show off the animals up for adoption. I normally worked with the dogs, but one day, they needed help in the cat section. OK. I can do that. 3 hours later, I left with no fewer than 17 scratches/bites. All of which broke the skin. Needless to say, this cemented my thought that cats didn’t like me.

Since I’ve moved in with my fiance (I moved in after we had been dating only about 3 weeks-I know, very fast), I have become the half-owner of his cat. He is the Bi-polar cow kitty. He is a short-haired mainly white cat, with black spots all over his back and feet…think cow. He is bi polar because he will randomly decide if he is going to be nice to you and/or if he will even grace you with his presence. He will bite your nose as you’re sleeping, then just stare at you when you jump up and sqeal in pain. He will know when you are wearing black pants and immediately want to rub all over you/sit in your lap. He will start out only taking up a corner of the bed, then move and twist and roll until he gets the whole bottom half of it. And you will be afraid to move him because then he will wake up, and he’s much easier to deal with when asleep.

He has no name. My fiance tries to say his name is Jack, but I don’t believe it because all I’ve ever heard him called is kitty. He is a complete menace when left to his own devices. He has broken my fiance’s laptop, knocked all of our change off the desk, and all of my makeup off the bathroom counter. He is the most uncoordinated cat I’ve ever seen in my life. I know that I don’t have a lot of experience with felines, but I always thought of them as being graceful and lithe. Not Kitty. He regularly jumps from our kitchen table to the window sill…and goes head first into the window and bounces off. He’ll try to jump from the floor to the kitchen counter, and bounce off the cabinets. At night, we’ll hear a THUD in the front room and just look at each other and start laughing because we know that Kitty has bounced off something else that, as a cat, he shouldn’t have.

He also loves water. Not to drink (although we’re pretty sure he is incapable of drinking out of bowls, because he always drinks out of the faucet or licks water drops off our fingers), but to sit in. I was told of this eccentricity before I met kitty, and didn’t quite believe it. But it’s true. After either one of us gets out of the shower, we hear a little thud (and sometimes our bodywash or shampoo being knocked off the side of the tub). Then about 10 minutes later, kitty will come out of the bathroom and either want to sit on your lap, or on the bed. and you will notice that his butt and tail are wet. Because he just got done sitting in the tub. The WET tub, since you just got out of the shower. We don’t know why he does this, only that he does. And he loves it. Maybe he does it for the shock factor. Or because he wants to be clean, too. Who knows?

In short, I love Kitty. He has provided hours upon hours of entertainment (especially since we bought a laser pointer from Wal-Mart) at both our and his expense. I’m still not sure how he feels about me, but we’re bonding.

My First Time…

So…about 2 weeks ago, I discovered blogs for the first time. I had heard of them, mainly in the verb form and would hear people talk about them on TV and in reference to My Space or Facebook, but didn’t realize there were whole websites devoted to this. The first blog I read was this one. And then somehow ended up on this one. I love them both, and find them both hilarious, enlightening and comforting. Both are very normal women, with very normal lives, and they write because they like to. They don’t write for other people, they don’t write to win awards or for money. So…I decided to try it. Because as a child, I wanted to be able to have a journal/diary SOOOO bad. I never could manage one…mainly because I would get bored and/or forget. Hopefully that doesn’t end up being the case here. But, I have to admit, there is something that is liberating about knowing that I can write whatever I want, and no one in my direct life would be able to read it (mainly because I am going to keep it completely anonymous). But someone might. And maybe they will like it. And maybe they will comment and give me advice, or commiserate with me. Or maybe someone will read my blog and feel better about themselves, as I have after reading the 2 above. because I like knowing that someone else doesn’t want to like cats, but does. So, I’m going to try it. Maybe for a day, or a week, or a month…guess we’ll see….