Cat terrorism
Dec. 9th, 2002 12:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quislibetWe had been in bed for only a few minutes with the lights out. J.'s parents were sleeping in the next room. And then, it began.
She: I love it when my legs are treated like a jungle gym.
I: Do you.
She: Yes.
I: Noted.
[pause]
She: This is about the food.
On Saturday, we had left early to drive down to a party in Providence where, among other things, J. was, to her surprise, offered a job writing for a major food magazine she doesn't really like, which she declined. After that party, we went to Somerville to the house of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mishak, arriving around 1 A.M. It was all quite fabulous, but incidental here, except that we had not given our two cats their symbolic teaspoon each of wet food, which the Kitten starts lobbying hard for as soon as it gets dark on any given day. We were running late, they had plenty of dry food, and it's kind of a pain either to open the can or to get the previously-opened can out of the plastic container in the refrigerator -- whereupon we must then microwave the food for a few seconds in the cat dish, because if it's too cold Kitten will eat it too fast and then throw up, and cleaning up cat vomit is rather more annoying than taking 15 seconds to heat up the food.
Anyway. No wet food Saturday.
Yesterday J.'s parents came down from NH, bringing us a Christmas tree from her uncle's tree farm and helping us move a chest freezer from our living room, where it clashed with the decor, to the basement. We then roasted a chicken that had been lurking in the freezer, inviting Mrs. G., the landlady, over to help us eat it.
In the midst of all that, however, we yet again did not give the cats wet food. Kitten protested for a bit, but Big One (these are not livejournal pseudonyms, which surely would be pushing matters too far; it's just that we have trouble naming pets) was hiding from guests upstairs and it's best to feed them simultaneously. And then we forgot.
So we went to bed, realizing that Kitten had gone without wet food for two days even though we had been around to give it to her, and we wondered idly if she was going to let us sleep. Alas, no: she spent much of the night chasing Halloween bat rings, her favorite toys, across the floor or our bodies. Locking her out of the room would involve blocking access to the cat box in the bathroom beyond, so that wasn't an option.
We can't prove, of course, that this was some sort of terrible revenge, but tonight it will probably be best to give her some wet food.
---
Incidentally, someone posting on the white-wolf.com LARP forum recently suggested a live-action game where players portrayed non-supernatural cats; cat society would be sharply divided between pampered house pets and rough-n-ready alley cats. Forum regulars seemed to react favorably to the idea. I can picture all too clearly the gamers in their cat costumes, licking one another and playing rock-paper-scissors to see who has the right of butt-sniffing. It is a vision to make the heart quiver in the chest of amr_sarcasm or an uncletang; I know it scares the willies out of me.
(For some reason I wanted to add, "and let me tell you, I have a lot of willies," but that would be strange and possibly misleading.)
She: I love it when my legs are treated like a jungle gym.
I: Do you.
She: Yes.
I: Noted.
[pause]
She: This is about the food.
On Saturday, we had left early to drive down to a party in Providence where, among other things, J. was, to her surprise, offered a job writing for a major food magazine she doesn't really like, which she declined. After that party, we went to Somerville to the house of
mishak, arriving around 1 A.M. It was all quite fabulous, but incidental here, except that we had not given our two cats their symbolic teaspoon each of wet food, which the Kitten starts lobbying hard for as soon as it gets dark on any given day. We were running late, they had plenty of dry food, and it's kind of a pain either to open the can or to get the previously-opened can out of the plastic container in the refrigerator -- whereupon we must then microwave the food for a few seconds in the cat dish, because if it's too cold Kitten will eat it too fast and then throw up, and cleaning up cat vomit is rather more annoying than taking 15 seconds to heat up the food.Anyway. No wet food Saturday.
Yesterday J.'s parents came down from NH, bringing us a Christmas tree from her uncle's tree farm and helping us move a chest freezer from our living room, where it clashed with the decor, to the basement. We then roasted a chicken that had been lurking in the freezer, inviting Mrs. G., the landlady, over to help us eat it.
In the midst of all that, however, we yet again did not give the cats wet food. Kitten protested for a bit, but Big One (these are not livejournal pseudonyms, which surely would be pushing matters too far; it's just that we have trouble naming pets) was hiding from guests upstairs and it's best to feed them simultaneously. And then we forgot.
So we went to bed, realizing that Kitten had gone without wet food for two days even though we had been around to give it to her, and we wondered idly if she was going to let us sleep. Alas, no: she spent much of the night chasing Halloween bat rings, her favorite toys, across the floor or our bodies. Locking her out of the room would involve blocking access to the cat box in the bathroom beyond, so that wasn't an option.
We can't prove, of course, that this was some sort of terrible revenge, but tonight it will probably be best to give her some wet food.
---
Incidentally, someone posting on the white-wolf.com LARP forum recently suggested a live-action game where players portrayed non-supernatural cats; cat society would be sharply divided between pampered house pets and rough-n-ready alley cats. Forum regulars seemed to react favorably to the idea. I can picture all too clearly the gamers in their cat costumes, licking one another and playing rock-paper-scissors to see who has the right of butt-sniffing. It is a vision to make the heart quiver in the chest of a
mr_sarcasm or an uncletang; I know it scares the willies out of me.(For some reason I wanted to add, "and let me tell you, I have a lot of willies," but that would be strange and possibly misleading.)
