I spent much of Sunday doing nothing. I played with the dogs outside, since it was gorgeous and sunny... and there was still snow on the ground.
Can I just tell you how dysfunctional it makes your brain to go outside in a tshirt when it's sunny, 70 degrees, green grass, no wind.... and piles of snow all around you. Plus, I raked my whole yard just a week ago. The Aussies and I like to play with the Chuck-It ball. But it kept getting lost in the snow piles and I would have to walk barefoot into the snow to find it. It was just so off-putting.
Anyways. Inside I cleaned the house, bathed the yellow dogs and snuggled with the cat. My Cat From Hell is on Saturday evenings and since I am a weenie and go to bed early, I DVR it. So Syl and I snuggled up to watch the half marathon of the show that was on.
I really heart this cat. And it's interesting to 'watch' as my views and opinions on cats change the longer I watch this Galaxy's show.
I grew up with cats. When I was little, we had two cats. Frosty was a short coat, pure white cat with one blue eye and one green eye. RatCat was what I can only imagine as a Ragdoll mix of some sort. I'm told that when I was like 2, I took a pair of plastic 'kid' scissors and cut off Frosty's ear. Why I would do that is beyond me. I don't remember it thank God, but I am so sorry, Frosty. We moved at some point and brought them with us. As we got out of the car at the new house, Frosty flipped out and took off. To this day I still see white cats with two different colored eyes and wonder if any of them were Frosty's. Naw, she was probably spayed. But I still wonder.
After Frosty and RatCat were gone, we adopted a calico lady from the shelter. Her name was Rainbow. She was an indoor/outdoor cat and had her own little cat door cut into the enclosed porch. She was awesome.
When I was in 5th grade, my sister's friend had a farm-ish type place and 3 kittens were born. One black, one white, one orange. I think we would have taken all 3, but they wanted to keep the orange one. We took the other two. A black male and a white female. They grew into huge, long-haired beauties. And we could never agree on their names, so we all called them what we wanted. My mom was obsessed with the OJ Simpson case so she called them Nicole and OJ. My sister called them Mister Fluffers and Missy. I guess Missy was usually Missy. But Mister Fluffers/OJ/Black Kitty/Max... he had a lot of names. They were good cats.
After I moved out of the house, my boyfriend at the time got a kitten. Kiki. She was a cute little short haired tabby. He was so mean to her though. He would tape her little feet before we went to bed because he thought it was funny how she walked. I'd wait until he fell asleep to take the tape off. She hated me because the removal of the tape was more traumatic to her than being taped. It still hurts me to remember that time. Eventually, we had to move Kiki out of the apartment because the landlord was making a visit and we couldn't have her, so I took her to my cat-loving parents and asked them to keep her safe. I'm quite happy to say that she's still with them today and while she's a little neurotic now, she's got a happy life. (I also feel inclined to add that I ended that relationship without a single regret. Asshole.)
I went for many years without cats. I missed having them, but at the time I was a 'dog/horse person' and didn't need them. One night while I was laying in bed reading my book, the end of my ponytail curled back around and was touching my cheek in such a way that reminded me of nights cuddling with my past kitties. I wanted a cat. Whether by devine intervention or fate or whatever you want to call it, a homeless adult cat came into our lives and by some miracle, Red is the one who told me we were keeping him. (He denies it to this day, but seriously, it was his idea).
We've had Sylvester for years now. He's been great for cat testing our foster dogs. He's become very affectionate towards strangers and towards us alike. He will curl up on my lap and purr and sleep for as long as I'll let him. He's got his annoying traits as well, but they aren't terrible.
Recently, a show was introduced on Animal Planet called 'My Cat From Hell' starring Jackson Galaxy. He's often referred to as a 'cat whisperer', but he prefers 'cat listener'. The first season, I watched it when it was on, but didn't fret if I missed it. I wasn't a cat person after all, and Sylvester was definitely not a 'hellish-cat'. One day I watched a marathon of the show and so began my new view of Syl. I'm now an addict of the show and I feel like I've got a much better understanding of Kitteh. His diet has changed, his playtime has changed. He's not just a cat anymore. He's my mighty mighty lion.
