The Cat Dreams and other such nonsense

As a background for this post, and to reiterate that I am not in fact insane, I was recently in bed sick for a week. The pills were really messing with my head and there was nobody to talk to, so my cat Pee and I got pretty close and had some awesome heart-to-hearts. I began to suspect, though, that she was trying to get into my head and manipulate me into excessive feeding and attention.

Like the dream I had the other night. I was a cop and my cat was a rookie female FBI agent that I had to protect from the terrorists. I do know where this came from, cause I watched a whole bunch of TV that week. But there was gunfire and in the dream I threw myself on Pee to save her life, in the meantime getting shot myself. In the dream she was bent over me crying and telling me to hold on... and then I woke up to the not-dream Pee sitting directly on my head, tail flicking my nose.

The next night I couldn't stand being in my room anymore so I decided to take my laying around to the boys' house. As I napped on their couch I had a dream where I walked in on Pee wearing my shorts, which were apparently magic and could shrink to fit my 8 lb. cat. She was checking out her butt in the mirror. I walked up to her and started yelling at her about borrowing my clothes, and she didn't say anything (because cat's can't talk, that's just not realistic) but strutted by me. I picked her up and ripped the shorts off, but she looked at me with her big green eyes and I felt guilty because they really did look better on her. So I put them back on her, even adjusting her tail so it fit through a button hole. When I woke up Jone's cat, Lira, was sitting on the arm of the couch and staring me down.

When I was sitting on the toilet the other day, too, the cat came into the bathroom like she usually does. She swaggered in and walked up to me, jumping up so her front paws were on my knees and her back paws were on the tile. She looked at me and then recoiled with this look of pure terror, flattened her ears and took off running like a bat out of hell. It makes me wonder what on earth scared her so much... is the image of a girl on the toilet really that terrifying? I gave her a treat to make her feel better again, which I now suspect was just a play into her evil plan.

I feel like the past week has turned me into a crazy cat lady. I guess there's many worse things I could be. Know this, though... if this is all a scheme by my cat to get into my head, it totally worked.

real life pop rocks

I was heading to my friend Brain's yesterday when there was a bomb threat on one of the trains, shutting down the lines. Some moron had actually wrapped a newspaper with tin foil and wrote "C-4" on it in marker, leaving it on the train. That, obviously, would explain all the cops I saw when the shuttle bus we were herded into rolled past one of the stations. There was even a bomb ROBOT that looked a whole-lot like Wall-e. I saw a real, working robot. I just wish I could have met it under better circumstances. Instead I was forced to listen the guy next to me on the shuttle ramble on about why exactly he "wants to go watch that midget stripper", and why it didn't make him a pervert.

When I finally got to Brain's, I tried to cheer him up, cause that was why I was there in the first place. I recalled a story that isn't even mine but can put a smile on any face, so I share it with you now.

At my mom's house there is a cat. This cat is really fat, which is why I call it Fatty McFatterson. Fatty is a slow-moving and filthy creature, huge in stature but with a mew like a newborn kitten. Fatty has been dealt a sad hand of cards in life.

In my mom's basement there is a cat door, which has served both Fatty and my cat, Zukes Longfellow Binabell Stout I, well for a few years. I wasn't there the day that Fatty decided to bop out the cat door and into the yard. Perhaps he saw a bird, maybe he wanted some fresh air. Whatever it was, he stepped out of the cat door and took a deep kitty breath.

It was then that he encountered a problem. His top half was outside, but his butt was still in the basement. Snugly tucked around his middle was the cat door.

He must have pushed and pulled for some time. Nobody knows HOW exactly our dear Fatty got his butt out of the basement, or how he managed to take the cat door with him. By all estimations he must have been running around the yard for quite some time before the neighbor found him and called us up. Again, I was not there, but I imagine the phone call to go something like this:

Neighbor: "Hey, are you missing a cat door?"

Mom "No..."

Neighbor: "Well you must be, cause it's in our yard. Wrapped around the cat."

I still wish with everything in me that someone had bothered to take a picture. Perhaps that would have made it sad though... and the picture in my head is plenty enough.

Mom put in a new cat door for robust cats a few days later. Fatty enjoyed coming and going as he pleased, at least until he peed everywhere and got himself banned from inside. He will forget the cat door incident, but I won't. I can never, ever forget.