Thursday, November 6, 2008

Coconut Cat Crap

We have a killer in our apartment.

I don't get it. Started so small. So innocent. So cute. Such a pain in the ass.

BossLady's cat has been an adventure.

Don't get me wrong. The cat is an absolute riot, and I can't imagine coming home to not seeing her any more than I could without finding BossLady.

The ThunderButt was a gift from a former employee of mine, The Mother Of God. Her daughter's cat had its seven hundredth litter (give or take a few). BossLady wanted one. So before I moved down to SoCal, I took some pics of the litter, and BossLady chose her kitty. We then spent the next two months figuring out a name, which we got from corrupting a character's name in a Musical we both like. Hence, we have Fiyera (named after Fiyero in the musical, WICKED).
We took a day last summer and drove up to the Bay Area and got our resident furrball. Six hours up, two hours playing with the litter, and six hours home.
The drive back was an adventure. We stopped in San Jose and got lunch at McNasty's, and about that time, the little fuzzball started screaming. Apparently, we didn't get her to her cat box in time. She dropped her load all over the front of my car. And she was POTENT! So we broke out the extra air freshener I had in my car... and spent the next 5 and half hours smelling coconut cat crap. I will never eat McDonalds again.
ThunderButt was the smallest kitten in her litter. Now? I think her mission in life is to be at least 60 pounds. She's well on her way. You can feel her running down the hall. Bookcases rattle, walls shake, mothers pull babies off the sidewalks...
ThunderButt likes to play. She is constantly chasing us in the kitchen. I can't remember the last time I took a crap without her supervision. She sits in the bathtub while you do your stuff. She howls like a banshee if you lock her out.
The other night, BossLady and I discovered we have a killer/hunter living here. We were online checking out sites for our upcoming wedding (only 10 months left to plan.... just shoot me now), and I hear ThunderButt playing in our closet. I look down, and Fiyera is taking her latest kill out to the living room. She had BossLady's boot in her mouth and a proud look on her face.
We won't talk about the times I hear the ThunderButt run followed by her launching herself on the bed... and using me as a trampoline to the window.
I can't go thru San Jose anymore without smelling Coconut Cat Crap.

It's a Crime

BossLady is trying to convert me to watching her crime shows.

I don't do blood.
I don't do guts.
I get sick thinking about tossing my own cookies.

So she's trying to convert me and getting me excited about watching others do this shit?

I don't get it.