We just got a new cat on Saturday from the Vancouver animal shelter. He is orange and white with a distinctive marking on his side, so we named him Patch. He is three months old. Ramel and I are both cat people and have had several neat pets. They are good company. Boots and Angel were wonderful but they have both passed on to their reward. After Angel died we got a little black and white female named Sassy. She is 7 mo. old and tries to live up to her name. Now with this new guy we have double the trouble, so I think it's time to establish some house rules. Below are the guidelines that I've come up with.
A Letter to My Cats
Dear Sassy and Patch,
When I tell you to move, it means to go someplace else, not just to switch positions with each other, so there are still two of you in the way.
The dishes on the floor by the refrigerator are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.
The hallway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack, for crying out loud. Beating me to the back bedroom is not the object. Tripping me doesn’t help either, because I fall faster than you can run.
I cannot buy anything bigger than a queen-sized bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort. Cats are supposed to curl up in a ball when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm. Neither is it necessary to curl yourself up around my neck and breathe your fishy breath into my face all night.
For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, and try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered. Also, I have been using the bathroom for years--feline attendance is not mandatory.
The proper order is kiss me first, and then go smell the other cat’s rear end. I cannot stress this enough!
And to pacify you, my dear pets, I have posted the following message on our front door:
Rules for Non-Pet Owners Who Visit and Like to Complain About Our Pets:
1. They live here. You don’t.
2. If you don’t want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. (By the way, that’s why they call it “fur-niture.”)
3. I like my pets a lot better than most people. To you, they are just animals. To me, they are more like adopted children who are short, hairy, walk on all fours, and don’t speak clearly.
4. Cats are actually better than kids...they eat less, don’t ask for money all the time, are easier to train, usually come when called, never drive your car, don’t hang out with drug-using friends, don’t smoke or drink, don’t worry about having to buy the latest fashions, don’t wear your clothes, and don’t need a gazillion dollars for college. And if they get pregnant, you can sell their children. It’s a win/win deal.
Crazy for cats,