I bought Shane a whopping $10 worth of cat toys today. Not to be all Andy Rooney about it, but those things are not cheap, have you noticed? The loot wound up being six small catnip mice, four jingly balls (save it, Auguste), and one larger faux-fur mouse with a little bell on its tail, which I thought was so cool because it's just the way mice are found in nature.
I drew the line at paying $0.99 for crinkled-up wad of wrapping paper, though. I don't think I want to know who buys those. And here is where I suddenly realize that having said that, I have guaranteed myself at least one hurt-feelinged comment along the lines of "But, I bought the crinkled-up wad of wrapping paper for my Snookums, because [three paragraphs of apology, justification, and explanation]." If we could just sort of skip that comment, that would be great, and remember: No one can make you feel inferior without your consent, least of all some chubby-assed recluse posting on the internet, for crying out loud.
Where was I before I started yelling at everybody?
Oh, right: Cat toys. Well, I put away most of them in the little cat toy bin and a couple of them I tossed to Shane.
And Shane was very excited about having new toys. He played with them very happily for approximately seven minutes.
Now he's back to knocking around a pistachio. Another damn pistachio.
1. I am tired of stepping on pistachios in my slippers in the mornings. They hurt.
2. I am tired of Shane losing pistachios under the refrigerator and then looking at me like that's my fault.
3. When's the last time I spent $10 on toys for me, huh? Answer me that, Shane.
Next time I'm NOT getting a kitten. Next time I am getting a nice puppy, or maybe a cockatoo, or perhaps some fish. You never see fish looking at you like, "This castle sucks, man. You got any pistachios?"
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We had some carpeted stairs in my house growing up, and my kitty used to tear up the edges with his claws. The little jerk. Though, he never needed toys. A ball of yarn or a tennis ball and he was happy.
Pistachios, though? Weird. My cat actually ran away from a peanut once.
The pistachio obsession is definitely weird. The first time my boyfriend dished up a bowl of them, Shane flew over and started sticking in paws in them (which would be ew if they weren't still in their shells) as though he recognized them. So I'm wondering if maybe someone at the shelter used to eat them or let him play with them--it's got to be something like that, I figure, because he has an almost instinctual response to the them.
You cannot eat them in front of him, because even if you give him one to play with, he wants the ones you've got. If he's sleeping, he'll wake immediately the first time you crack a shell.
It's very annoying. We really LIKED pistachios. Liked, past tense.
I'll be glad when this phase is over. I'm just hoping that it IS only a phase, because I can't imagine going a dozen-or-more years never eating a pistachio again.
All dependents are ungrateful. All the way to the Power Ranger Bowling Party Spectacular, the red Power Ranger in the back seat whined, "But I wanta Pinanta!(Piñata), Mo-o-o-m, I wanna Pinanta!"
No, we did not turn around and get him one. I said, "Dude, Suck It."
We have a dog that will arise at 3:00 am if her covers have fallen off and bark and whine and pace until someone gets up to cover her back up.
Shane doesn't seem to understand the importance of WATER, either, as I recall ;) He's playful, that one.
Shane doesn't seem to understand the importance of WATER, either, as I recall ;)
Water? That's the BEST CAT TOY OF ALL!
Yeah, I have to keep reminding myself his brain's the size of a walnut, or maybe in fact a pistachio.
He's playful, that one.
Got a nasty violent streak in him, too.
(Okay, not really. That was just a chin-in-the-wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time incident.)
I said, "Dude, Suck It."
Yes! Bucking for that Mother of the Year award early this year. That's the spirit. ;)
If that cat is not galloping down the hall and bouncing on your head while you're trying to sleep, quit yer whining. I have two that used to do that. The pistachios are probably just a passing kitten phase but the indignation isn't. They practice and refine that art their entire lives.
I never get that captcha right the first time.
If that cat is not galloping down the hall and bouncing on your head while you're trying to sleep, quit yer whining.
Hells, Rob, how you think I got that chin full of gore in the first place? That kitten thinks of my whole head as nothing but a superb launching pad.
my little psychotic tweaker thinks tampons are great toys. specifically, the little platic wrapped o.b. ones. he likes to fish them out of my purse and bat them around, preferably when there's company.
My cat actually ran away from a peanut once.
aw! scary peanutseseses! hee hee
Cats. Don't get me started.
I no longer bother feeding our two when they wail. I look at the Spousal Unit and say 'The cats want feeding.' Because even if I fill their dishes to overflowing avalanches the little mosters continue to yell until the Spousal Unit comes by and touches the dishes. This evidently turns the unworthy substance in the bowls into cat food.
The dog, on the other hand, is a whole 'nother level of wierd. The Spousal Unit is the One True Playmate and the dog will wander into his study and growl and wag his tail to get him to come out and play. And if that fails he comes and does the same growl and wag at me.
Does he want me to play with him? He does not. He wants me to go tell the Spousal Unit to take a dog break.
Phui. Next time I'm getting a decorative fern.
Dunno if you're a drunkard like the rest of us, but wine corks make great and free cat toys.
The wine cork is not taking off for some reason. It is not salty like a pistachio, nor does it rattle like a pistachio, nor does it carry the "mama gets very annoyed when you play with that, sweetheart" panache of, oh, say, a pistachio.
my little psychotic tweaker thinks tampons are great toys.
First, bless you for the cartoon link, and right on; they are psychotic tweakers.
Second, I have heard of this! I have had friends who have had tampon-loving cats, but do I ever get so lucky? Do any tampon-loving cats beat down my door, offering me fabulous and near-limitless Flickr opportunities? No. No, they never do that, because they know I would like it, and that's the thing: If cats sense you enjoy a thing at all, they're pretty much reflexively not down with it.
In other words, cats are me.
Ours went completely crazy over the Christmas tree this year-- not normal crazy, climbing and such, but monumentally crazy, hanging like a bat, leaping wildly about the tree crazy. (crazy kitty in a tree)
It was a good year.
Scott: BWAHAHAHA! omg, how is that even physically possible?? didn't that HURT? yet he looks oddly peaceful, somehow...
these are the cutest kittens, like, ever.
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