Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘vomiting cats’

Here’s my confession: the joys and benefits of Pet Ownership are somewhat eluding me right now.

Let’s put it this way: if you were to get all the Happy Pet Owners of Australia and gather them together in the Melbourne Cricket Ground, I would not come along to your little pet-lovin’ shindig. So don’t bother inviting me, okay? Look, don’t even talk to me about it. Sheesh. 

And before you judge me too harshly, let’s just say that Genghis Cat (resident pet) represents just another member of this household who:

a) follows me around the house, hassling me to give him food;

b) turns his nose up at whatever food I give him;

c) wants to sleep in my bed;

d) wakes me up by crying loudly when I won’t let him sleep in my bed; and when I do let him sleep in my bed…

e) keeps me awake by biting my toes (admittedly the kids do it by jabbing my kidneys with those pointy toes of theirs)

f) unexpectedly shits, pisses and vomits in equally unexpected places around the house; and 

g) gives me worms. 

To add insult to injury, the cat makes a point of sitting right in front of me and licking his anus for, like, 20 minutes while I’m trying to eat my chocolate brownie and then leaping over and running his tongue across said brownie the minute I leave it unattended. At least the kids don’t do that – if only because it’s physically impossible for them to lick their anuses. 

Experts say: pets make good friends.

I say: even my worst enemies haven’t thrown up on my bed.  

Experts say: pet ownership has many health benefits.

I say: as long as I don’t eat that brownie. 

Experts say: pets are good for stress-relief.

I say: as long as they don’t create more stress than they relieve. But then again, I sure feel much better after shouting “STUPID CAT!” at the cat. And it certainly feels way more comfortable than shouting “STUPID KIDS!” at the kids. Plus I can lock the cat outside when he’s really pissing me off. Or I can even lock him outside when the kids are really pissing me off. I mean, better the cat, right?

Shit, no wonder he’s so unreasonably angry. And I can’t even blame the cat for that one. Which makes me unreasonably angry. 

Stupid cat. 

Read Full Post »

I should never leave the room because when I come back, at least one of the following things are guaranteed to have happened:

  • Someone will have taken my chair – if not the kids, the cat. If not the cat, four ninja turtles hanging out in a hot pink Barbie Roadster. And if nobody’s taken the chair, the chances are that somebody pissed on it in my absence.
  • All the toy boxes will have been upended and the resulting mountain of toys will have been generously sprinkled with milk.
  • All shoes and socks will have been removed and thrown around the room and somebody will be unexpectedly – and most inconveniently – naked. Quite possibly my husband. 
  • Small hands will have magicked scissors out of thin air and will be honing their fine motor skills by cutting up my passport or wedding photos.
  • My husband will have picked up one of his guitars and will be strumming with his “guitar face” on, putting an end to all possible conversation for the next hour. 
  • The previous tableaux of domestic bliss – for example: three children reading books on the couch in the fading afternoon sun – will have disintegrated into an on-for-one-and-all shit-fight (quite literally, if the youngest happens to be unexpectedly naked).
  • Somebody will have taken all the DVDs out of their cases and and rubbed them vigorously with sandpaper. It’s the only way I can explain how they all get so scratched. 
  • My keys will have gone mysteriously missing and I’ll find myself wishing – not for the first time – that I could phone my keys to find out where the hell they are. 
  • My cousin (“mystery v”) will have convinced my husband to try table-dancing for a living because the hours for table-dancing would suit him better than his current job.
  • The cat will have vomited on one of the library books.
  • Worst of all: someone will have spilt my drink. This means that, as I face whatever else has happened in my absence, I am unable to take a slug to steady my nerves. And it also means that I will have to leave the room AGAIN.

(*sigh*)

Read Full Post »