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Category Archives: Cats

April 3, 2013

Cat-wars and roadtrips and sports follies: a day of random goodness, part two

By lucysfootball

Welcome back, friends! And enemies, I suppose, but I hope none of you are enemies. How distressing would THAT be? I don’t want my enemies reading this. ENEMIES! Be OFF with you!

Yesterday we discussed SOME things, today we will discuss MORE things. I know. I have lots of things to tell you. What can I say, I live a life of excitement and mystery. Except since I tell you all about it, there’s not so much “mystery” as there is “no mystery at all.”

World War Flea

Update on the Newcat/Dumbcat situation: Newcat continually attacks Dumbcat. Dumbcat used to just cower in the corner and make pathetic noises that made my whole heart ache, but he apparently is tired of that, so now he’s standing up for himself and HISSING and SPITTING and BATTING HIS LITTLE ARMS IN RESPONSE. Then I break it up because I’m afraid someone’s going to get hurt. Newcat still loves me and follows me around like a little smitten kitten. The other night, the cats decided to play King of the Mountain. Guess what was the mountain? My hip. Under the covers. In bed. First Dumbcat wanted to sleep with me. Then Newcat decided SHE wanted to sleep with me. So she leapt into the bed. MUCH FIGHTING MUCH HISSING MUCH SPITTING! And I was half-asleep so I said “mrph stop cut it out so tired” and then whoever lost tumbled off the bed and whoever won settled in. It was dark, I’m not sure who was the victor. Then like an hour later, THE LOSER DECIDED TO CHALLENGE THE WINNER TO A REMATCH! So another leap! MORE SPITTING AND MORE HISSING! More me saying “why is what is this stop no please what?” This happened pretty much hourly all night long. Luckily they seem to have discovered a victor because it didn’t happen again the next night.

This obviously exhausts Dumbcat. What a tough life, aw. (Also, that FACE! Isn't he so squishable?)

This obviously exhausts Dumbcat. What a tough life, aw. (Also, that FACE! Isn’t he so squishable?)

Then today I got home from work and they’d knocked everything off the end table and unplugged all the cords for all the things I had plugged in, so apparently they worked together to save electricity or something. I’m not quite sure what happened there. Thanks? I think? Maybe?

Road-trippin’

Dad’s on his annual pilgrimage to Florida as we speak. He just arrived. He took off Saturday night and arrived this morning. (Well, MONDAY morning for you. I’m writing this days ago. Sorry to break your brain.) He bought a total old-man car for the trip. He’s been driving a really old car that pieces fall off of for the longest time, and FINALLY listened to his daughter and got a new car. Well, it’s not NEW, it’s a little old, but it’s totally a huge silver Buick. I have been picking on him about this for DAYS. “Dad, you have to drive down the middle white line with a car like that at 30 miles per hour on the highway, that’s the rule for cars like that,” I tell him. “NOT FUNNY I AM NOT OLD,” he says.

I found this photo on something called "Classy Cars." Hee! Classy = OLD PERSON CAR.

I found this photo on something called “Classy Cars.” Hee! Classy = OLD PERSON CAR.

Now he is in his condo for the next month. Apparently this condo is decorated in the best of 60s chic and the walls are all mirrored and he said that was scary and when he wakes up in the middle of the night to pee he’s going to think there’s a robber in the house but it’ll really be him. “You could put a positive spin on it and think you’re having a party,” I said. “I HATE PARTIES,” he grumbled.

Not Dad's condo. But probably similar. Look out for robbers!

Not Dad’s condo. But probably similar. Look out for robbers, Dad!

He also told me this story. Background: his brother and his sister-in-law are staying in the next condo (my godparents, Uncle D. and Aunt M.), and his sister and his brother-in-law are staying in the OTHER next condo (my aunt G. and uncle P.) They all went out to happy hour, so I think they might have all been a little tipsy.

Dad: So P. and I went over to get D. and knocked on the door, but no one answered.
Me: OK. Maybe they went out.
Dad: They did not. Their car was in the lot.
Me: Maybe they went for a walk on the beach.
Dad: No. I tried the door and it was unlocked.
Me: Sheesh, homebreaker, way to barge in.
Dad: P. said, “I bet they’re doing it.”
Me: DAD. I do not need to hear about my godparents DOING it.
Dad: People still do it when they’re godparents, Amy.
Me: AS FAR AS I’M CONCERNED, UNCLE D. AND AUNT M. HAVE DONE IT EXACTLY TWO TIMES.
Dad: That’s not very many times. Why two?
Me: They have two children. Two times. Done done done.
Dad: People who are married do it.
Me: STOP SAYING DO IT IN RELATION TO MY GODPARENTS.
Dad: So when P. said “I bet they’re doing it” we ran away and also were laughing.
Me: You ran away giggling like teenagers?
Dad: Not GIGGLING. We’re not young GIRLS. We were LAUGHING. Like grown-up MEN.
Me: This story makes me laugh. Maybe Aunt M. was in the shower and Uncle D. was out on the patio looking at the ocean.
Dad: Stop pretending they weren’t doing it.
Me: STOP SAYING DOING IT.

I was looking for something funny related to doing it and this has NOTHING to do with that, except extraneously, but OMG did this make me laugh like a moron.

I was looking for something funny related to doing it and this has NOTHING to do with that, except extraneously, but OMG did this make me laugh like a moron.

Also, Dad had a very funny joke, courtesy of HIS dad, who I sadly never got to meet but I would have loved so much because he was intelligent and very funny. See, Dad was held up in an accident-related traffic jam on the Virginia-North Carolina border. It was a huge accident. 6 people (I think?) died and 70-some were hospitalized because the highway was foggy and people just kept running into each other.

So Dad and I were talking about how if the weather was really bad, is it better to stop if you can’t see? Or is it better to keep going? Because both ways, you’re probably screwed. You stop, someone hits you. You keep going, someone hits you (or you hit someone. Or go off the road. Or hit a sign. Your options are unlimited, really.)

Dad said, “Did I ever tell you the story my dad told me about driving in really bad weather?”

Dad never tells me stories about his father. They make him too sad. So this was very exciting. No, I said, he hadn’t told me that story.

“Well, Dad said that you’re supposed to always keep an eye on the white line in bad weather, or when it’s dark. So you can stay in your lane. It’s your guide. Well, one night, this guy he knew was in bad weather. So he kept his eye on the white line. Kept his eye on the white line for a long time. Until, BAM, he smashed into the back of a truck. It wasn’t a white line. It was a milk truck that had been leaking.”

The moral of the story is, the white line is a nice guide, but also look up once and a while. Or that milk trucks are leaky, maybe.

The moral of the story is, the white line is a nice guide, but also look up once and a while. Or that milk trucks are leaky, maybe.

I laughed. That was a good story.

“I’m pretty sure Dad made that up. But you didn’t interrupt him when he was telling a story. Because he was the best storyteller in the whole world.” Dad was quiet for a minute. “Until you. Now there’s you.”

Then I got sniffly and blamed seasonal allergies.

You’re welcome, Syracuse fans

So remember we talked about my excellent bracket-picking skillzzzzz? As of this point, my brackets are the most busted. I am in last place in the group I’m in to win a gift card (which might mean I have to buy the gift card for the winner – Dad is quite sure that’s how it works, even though I told him I was pretty sure it’s not) and I’m losing to Dad in our group (but we still could both win – I’ve got Louisville to win the whole thing, and he has Syracuse, so it’s still up in the air. So I might be buying him a McDonald’s meal – or I might be getting one bought for ME! Whoo-hoo! Come on, Louisville!)

Hee, I assume this is one of the coaches, but he looks like an orchestra conductor.

Hee, I assume this is one of the coaches, but he looks like an orchestra conductor.

In Jim‘s group, I’m out (I think I’m third-to-last) and Dad can’t win, although he did better than I did. Jim’s doing pretty well but I don’t know if he can win, either. Dad is VERY DISPLEASED he is losing to the guy who is dead to him.

“I think he’s using cyborgs,” he said.

“Cyborgs? What?” I replied.

“All the people we’re playing against in that group, that are beating us: he made them up. They’re not real. They’re cyborgs.”

“They’re half-human, half-robot people?”

No one told me I'd be playing against cyborgs!

No one told me I’d be playing against cyborgs!

“No. They’re IMAGINARY,” Dad said, exasperated.

“Well, if they’re imaginary, they might be CYBER, but I don’t think they’re CYBORG,” I said.

“You make up a lot of words,” Dad said. “Whatever they are, all I know is, that guy is about fifty times more dead to me than he was when we started this. He’s cheating. CHEATING ON BASKETBALL! With CYBORGS!”

Oh, this is bad, Jim. When you decided you were going to create a half-human, half-robot army to cheat at basketball, I don’t think you understood the can of worms you were going to open. SO! MANY! WORMS! JIM!

Jim asked me on Facebook if HE was a cyborg, and I told him no, of course not, as all my internet people are female truck drivers. “Female CYBORG truck driver,” Jim replied.

Touché, Jim. Touché.

Also, I want to extend my warmest “you’re welcome” to the Syracuse fans out there. Because I didn’t choose your team, they have made it to the final four. If I HAD chosen them, they would have lost. Dreadfully. A long time ago. Possibly while holding up a sign saying “Sorry, Amy, you should have known better.” So, Syracuse fans, you are WELCOME. I will take any thank-you gifts you have to offer, such as chocolate, cute pajamas, or CAT TREETZ. (I didn’t type that last one. I think you can guess who did. His name starts with Dumb and ends with cat. Don’t be taking over my keyboard just to get yourself treats, bub.)

There! Whew! Two days of ALL THE THINGS OF RANDOMNESS! Now it is…Wednesday? Yes. Most assuredly Wednesday. Happiest of Wednesdays to you all. You and you and EVEN YOU.

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21 comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , , | posted in Cats, family, random

March 15, 2013

An adventure at the vet with Dumbcat, Newcat, and ME!

By lucysfootball

So TODAY, we had an adventure called “take two cats to the vet, one of which doesn’t 100% trust you yet because she is new here.”

What do you mean, this isn’t an adventure. I beg to differ, yo. EVERYTHING is an adventure if you look at it the right way.

First, I got out of work EARLY. This is yet another reason my new job (when, may I ask, is it no longer “new job” but just “job”? I still feel like someone’s going to jump out and scream “PUNK’D!” any day now. It has not yet happened, but that doesn’t mean it’s not GOING to happen) is the best thing ever. If you need to leave a little early because you have a thing going on, like you have to go to bed early because you have to get up before the sun even THINKS about getting up to go to New York City to have the best day ever, for example, or if you have to get to the vet and wouldn’t get there in time if you left at your normal time, you can skip your lunch and do that. You totally can!

So I left work and came home. First order of business: Dumbcat needed his nails trimmed or I was afraid the vet would be all a., “YOU ARE A BAD CAT MOMMY!” and b., “Let us do it for you, it’s only $900!” (I may have rounded that up, but it’s expensive, especially since I can do it myself for FREE.)

I like how relaxed this cat is. This is not the case here in the Casa del Futbol.

I like how relaxed this cat is. This is not the case here in the Casa del Futbol.

So in order to trim Dumbcat’s nails, you need three things: 1. a cat nail trimmer; 2. a towel, 3. a lot of patience and a very soothing voice.

Dumbcat doesn’t like his feet touched. Or his body touched. Or to be forcibly restrained. IT STRESSES HIM OUT.

So first you have to pretend you’re just PETTING Dumbcat. Today he was rolling on the floor so I had to get on the floor and pretend to roll as WELL, and then also pet him until he vibrated all over with purrs because MOMY IS ON TEH FLORE WITH MEEE! and then scoop him up and QUICK QUICK wrap him in a towel before he could freak out too much. (NOTE: Don’t use a towel you like or need to use anytime soon. It will be covered in fur when you are done.)

This cat is much too relaxed. Dumbcat mistrusts that.

Once you have him wrapped in a Purrito (patent pending), you can very carefully pull one of his legs out of the towel for nail-clipping.

That’s when he realizes this has all gone very, VERY wrong. And he starts making a noise like a rabbit in a trap. And it is HEARTBREAKING. And he starts struggling and pulling his leg away from you.

If you are quick and efficient, you can get his front paws done in a flash. Well, most of them. Since he’s a polydactyl, he has weird claws in weird places and you have to be sure to get those, too. Like, claws between his toes and claws growing out of the sides of his legs.

UNFORTUNATELY, this time we had a slight mishap in that he ZIGGED when I should have ZAGGED and one of his weird claws pulled off. PULLED RIGHT OFF! (He has one weird claw that is not…a claw. I don’t know how to even explain it. It’s this thick non-pointy claw. What can I say, he’s genetically challenged.) So THEN, there was BLEEDING! So I had to take the Purrito (patent pending, DON’T YOU STEAL THAT FROM ME, IT’S ALL I HAVE GOING FOR ME DAMMIT!) to the kitchen for a paper towel so I could make it stop bleeding, and that Purrito (don’t even think about stealing that, you thieves) was at that point making noises like a teakettle boiling mixed with an angry swarm of bees and also perhaps a robot on the fritz.

Dumbcat (artist's rendition)

Dumbcat (artist’s rendition)

So FINALLY we got that under control and he was doing this thing where he was KICKING and YOWLING and we STILL had the BACK legs to do! Oh, Dumbcat. Just so you know, I was also using my most calming voice throughout. “Dumbcat! Buddy, you are OK. YOU. ARE. OK. You will be fine! We have to clip these claws. THEY ARE OUT OF CONTROL! Look how long these are. They are like SABERS! You will scratch yourself and there will be pain. You don’t want that! STOP BEING BUNNY-LEGS! You cannot escape from this wrapping, my little purrito (PATENT PENDING I SAID!)”

Then we got the back legs done and THEN it was time for STEP TWO IN MY NEFARIOUS PLAN! which was, put Dumbcat in a carrier for the vet.

Now, usually Dumbcat doesn’t care about the carrier but this time I think he was so upset about the purrito (if you’re thinking of stealing that, DON’T YOU EVEN DARE!) and the leg-touching and the accidental bloodiness that he was all out of sorts. Or he was acting. Because the minute I put him in there he got OBNOXIOUS.

Mriew? Meow? MIEUW? MRRROWOOOW? MEOW MEOW?

Mriew? Meow? MIEUW? MRRROWOOOW? MEOW MEOW?

“Meow? Mrrrrrow? MEOW! MEOW! MEEEEEOOOOWWW! Mrrrreiou? Mieuuuuuu? MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW!” said Dumbcat. Repeatedly. The entire time he was in the carrier. So THAT wasn’t annoying at all.

Then I captured Newcat (ok, so capturing really just meant I scooped her up and popped her in a carrier, which she constantly knocked over with her feet and I finally got the giggles about it because we were like a comedy of errors) and put her in a carrier and then sat on the couch breathing heavily for a while because THAT WAS A LOT OF WORK. Being a single mom is no joke, you know.

Then I wrestled both carriers to the car and drove over to the vet’s office. The whole way, Dumbcat said “MEOW MEOW MEOW, mrrrow? Meiuouw? Brrrrrow? MEOW MEOW!” and Newcat once and a while would quietly say, “Meow.” She was very polite.

Then we got to the vet and usually I have a billion hours of waiting-time while I’m there but this time they got me right in! It was very nice of them. First we see the vet tech. The vet tech does the following: weighs the cats (Dumbcat: 12.5 pounds; Newcat, 13 pounds – my cats are…um…not thin), checks to see what shots they need, and takes their temperature. With a thermometer up their bum. This did not upset Newcat, which made me despair for what she’s been through in her lifetime. It DID, however, freak Dumbcat right out and he made that cartoon face that people make when they are mightily surprised by something and their eyes bug out a little. Then he hid his face in my shirt and that always makes my heart hurt.

HEALTHY!

HEALTHY!

The best part of vet visits is when you take Dumbcat out of the carrier. Dumbcat is PRETTY, you guys. Like, I know I’m biased, but there are NORMAL cats, and then there’s my beautiful boy. But it’s always good when I reveal him from the carrier and the tech or the vet says, “OMG LOOK AT HIM!” and then I think that’s how you people with children feel with someone tells you your child is beautiful. Shush, let me have my dreams.

But THIS time, Newcat ALSO got the reaction! I HAVE TWO BEAUTIFUL CATS! How did that happen? Just good genetics, I guess. I’m an EXCELLENT mom.

So then the vet came in and she was a very nice lady who was about my age. Therefore, she was not the hot Irish vet who saw the cats once, and that was momentarily disappointing. She was very nice, though, and ALSO thought the cats were beautiful.

Dumbcat got TWO shots and did not want EITHER of them and hid his face in my shirt MORE. Then she checked out all of his various things and poked and prodded him and soothed my fears that he has these weird lumps that come and go (they are nothing more than cysts, he’s not dying of weird cat-skin-cancer because that’s of course IMMEDIATELY where my mind goes. Because why just do something? GO BIG OR GO HOME. It’s a little bump? NO IT IS CANCER. Are you sad about something terrible that happened? WELL THAT SHIT’S GOING TO LINGER FOR PROBABLY A YEAR IF IT EVER GOES AWAY AT ALL. No room for going halfway, not in Amy-land!) and said he was the healthiest, happiest boy and to keep doing what I’m doing. Aw, I like that.

(THIS IS NOT SAFE FOR WORK! SO MUCH CUSSING! But also wonderful. And totally should be my mantra. Exactly. Fuck it, WHY go halfway?)

Then it was time for Newcat! Newcat had many things that needed checked up on. First: she had surgery back in November for a tumor (benign) and the vet needed to check on that; all was well, except she had one stitch that didn’t dissolve and was poking out so she took that out. Then she checked on why she was limping on her front right leg. (No answer on that one; she said since Newcat didn’t seem to be in any pain, she might just walk like that, or have an old injury. Aw, Newcat! You are all jacked up!) Also, Newcat tried to eat the vet’s hand when she was checking her limp-issue. The vet was very calm and said, “OK, we’re going to just keep doing this, Newcat, so stop being rude, ok?” and Newcat just looked at me with anger and disgust. She’s very attitudinous, Newcat is.

She also CONCURRED with me that Newcat is about 5 years old. I win being able to tell how old cats are by their teeth! I learned a thing at my job at the Humane Society! I HAVE A SPECIALIZED SKILL!

Probably don't want a cat to make this scary face-eating face at you, though. Rule #1 of being a cat-teeth whisperer.

Probably don’t want a cat to make this scary face-eating face at you, though. Rule #1 of being a cat-teeth whisperer.

She said Newcat is very healthy and ALSO very happy and that they are both beautiful and since she has a medical degree I think it’s the truth, right? Right.

They both need to lose a little weight, though, so it’s (shh) diet cat food for the kitties from now on. I’ll get them something tasty. It’s the least I can do. (Also, Dumbcat doesn’t actually eat very much, but Newcat is a HOOVER when it comes to food. My goodness! She eats MUCH food. I think it’s because she was homeless. She isn’t sure if her next meal will actually happen. Aw, Newcat. There will always be food.)

Dumbcat and Newcat would like you to know this is no laughing matter. Except kind of a cat in overalls is HILARIOUS.

Dumbcat and Newcat would like you to know this is no laughing matter. Except kind of a cat in overalls is HILARIOUS.

When I got home my overly-attentive UPS man was here (he totally knows my name and ASKS WHAT IS IN ALL MY PACKAGES, I find that odd, Dad says “Isn’t that NICE, he is so FRIENDLY” but I think it’s none of his business so I tell him false information like “knives SHARP KNIVES”) (FINE, no I don’t) and I got a billion packages (a book, a fan for my desk at work because it’s so hot in there I am DYING, and a gift for someone, so, I guess more like three packages than a million, I’m really terrible at guesstimating) and so wrestled all the packages AND the carriers into the house and then RELEASED THE HOUNDS! (cats) and they RAN up the stairs like they were being chased by all the demons of hell. THEIR MISTREATMENT WAS OVER!

Now Dumbcat is curled up to me snoring so hard he just scared himself awake with the noise of it (and then glared at me like I was the one who woke him up) and Newcat is under the kitchen table snoring as loud as SHE can because they have had a VERY TRYING DAY.

See? This is a lesson in how anything can be an adventure if you really just apply yourself. Or if you’re with me. That latter part might be the key, actually, and I can’t really help you with that part. Just ask yourself – WHAT WOULD LUCY’S FOOTBALL DO? and the answer is usually “turn it into an adventure” or “spill food on her top” and either way, you’ll be riding high, jellybeans. Just don’t get one of those obnoxious bracelets with WWLFD on it because then I’ll shake my head at you in an embarrassed manner.

Won’t be around tomorrow, and maybe not for the next few days – lots to do! Very busy! But will do my best to do what I can. Just imagine me having all the adventures. That’s really the best way to imagine me, anyway, at all times. Happy weekends, all!

34 comments | posted in adventure, busy, Cats, pets

March 9, 2013

A Very Exciting Day! (A Guest Post by Dumbcat!)

By lucysfootball

Helo blog peeple:

MoM sed I culd write to yew todey and I said GUD becauze we have thingz to talk ebout!

First MommE said to say hi how are youu. So hi to you nices peeple. I am a cat. Mom sayz my brain is made of puding but I think no. I am just a furree catt who sometiems fallz off stuff.

Also LISETN! Momee soemtimez doesnent get home until LATETIMES and I do not get crunchy treetz at the tiem I liek wich is 8 PEE EMM. When she getz hoem, I say MEOIOUW MOM! Becauzze it is SO LAET! And she says SORRY DUMBCATT! And gievs me the treets that are crunchee adn smell like fishes or chickens. Then she pets me on my head and I purr lots and also roll around and once I fell off the cowch. She can not taek me to the latenight places becauze I wuld be afraid of things like noyses and also peeple and outdors.

Once tiem I had a sistre. She was brown and also black and sometiems my frend but sometiems growly. Sometiems she let me sleepe with her in a curled up balle and I lieked that a lot because it was warm but then sometimes she would bite my faece.

One day my sistere got sick and hid undre the bed and wuld not come out and then MomM was sad and cryed. And then my sistre went away and she did not come baek adn I was all alone catt. Soemtimes I wuld sing meow meowww to Mom so she wuld not be so sad and miss my sistre so much but mostly she would say “Dumbcatt you aer lonely aren’t yew” and I think I am loenly.

Momee wanted a Newcatt for a long tiem but things happend liek she was not wurking and thought we mught have to live in the carr and also maybe she culd not aford catt fud. Then she started a new jobb so she said, “Dumbcat! We will get a new frend for you.” So I was exceited but also nervus becaze what if newcatt did not luv me or what if mommee loved newcatt more than me I am Dumbcatt?

Todaye momee was laet to come home so I sade “sigh sigh MOMEE why so LATE MOM.” But when she came home LOOK WHAT SHE HAD!

A BOX! The box was MOVINGG! And MEOEWING! And I was curious so I SMELLEED it!1!

Mommee sed “Dumbbcatt wat dew yu thinkk is that?” I DID NOT KNOW!

So I rolled all around gleefuly.

MomEE said, “You are weirdd, I luv you.” I rolled MORE. The box MOVED MORE TIEMS!

What dew you thnk is in this box? It is not an octopes or a snaek. Thoes were my gesses, too, but they were wronge.

IT WuS a NEWCAT!

Newcat came owt of her box and I made BIG EYES! She looked just liek my OTHER SISTRE except FATTRE! Momee says I am not allowed to call laYdees fatt because it is rude and alsow I am pretty also fatt. So I am sory, new sistre. YOU ARE NoT FATT!

New sistre is a pretty color called tortsehele. (Editor’s Note: She is a tortoiseshell; sorry, that one was hard for my little guy to spell for you.) She has eyes that are YELLLLLOW! I uesed lots of Ls for you becuz they are perrty.

Newcat saw me and I saw Newcat and I FELL IN LOVE! I want to be her best frend and cuddel up and sleepe for many houers! So I went up to her and said “Meiou?” in a very poliet way and she said “Growl grumbel HISS!” and jumped out of the boxx!

I think she has STYEL.

I folowed her all aroend the living rum and she was investigatng it with her noes. I said “meiouw?” and she would say “grumbel!” but I think maybe that means “hellow” in her langwage. She did not try to hit me with her pawz or clawz.

Then she investigaeted the WHOLE HOWSE and smeled ALL THE THINGZ and even tried to get in my potz and panz cubbord so I knew we were MENT TO BE. Mommee said “No no Newcat!” and laffed and I lieked to hear her laugh about a new cat but then I thought, what if momEE loves Newcat MORE than Dumbcatt who is me?

When Newcat went to smelle the hallway Momee picked me up and said, “You are my best boye” and cuddled my whole faec and then I knewe she loves me still then I sade “MMPH!” and she put me downe becase I do not liek to be tuched.

Newcat keeps hiding in the bedroom but momEE said she went in there and Newcat let her cuddle her so she will be alrite, I just haev to be patienet but I do not know what that meens. I keep going to look for her adn I find her undre the bed and she says “grumble!”

Momee says to tell you Newcat is probably about FIEV YERS OLD and is FIXED SO NO BABBIES and the sheltre said she was HELTHY and we will go to the vet next week for a chekup and I do not like the vet becuz he touchs my fur adn puts a thermter in my bum. Mommee says don’t to say bum on the blogge becuz it is not poliet.

I loev my new sistre and so much. I am very excted. Momm says to let Newcat blogg now becaus that would be nice to maek her like me moretimes and I think ok.

Here is Newcat! Goodbey blogg peopel, mayeb someday I will taelk to you agen! I will slepe on Momees leg now.

Hello to you, blog people. I am Newcat. I have a name, but my new caretaker, who tells me she is my mother but I don’t have to call her Mom until I am comfortable with that, says I need a social media alias; therefore, Newcat it will be.

I was at the shelter in Saratoga for for four months. Saratoga is where classy people and horses live; however, apparently not classy enough to notice quality when they see it. Four months is a very long time and the cages are not very big. Sometimes the cats housed beside me were most uncouth.

Did I mention the particular shelter I was in was in a mall? Yes. I know. It is most beneath me!

Did I mention the particular shelter I was in was in a mall? Yes. I know. It is most beneath me!

Today, a crazy-eyed lady with hair all awry came in. She opened my cage and politely petted me. I liked her. She seemed to understand the ways of the cat. “Hello,” she said. “What do you think, want to come home with me?” I was undecided, but headbutted her. She seemed to like that.

She then went on to check out another cat. I knew that wouldn’t go well. Although that cat is pretty, she is crazy. And, yes! Lady with Crazy Eyes got scratched. Could have told her that was coming.

“I think I will take the tortoiseshell,” Lady with Crazy Eyes said.

We went into a weird pen to get to know each other. “This is weird, I feel like we’re in kitty-jail,” said the lady. There were many people gawking at us and I grumbled and grumbled and the new lady said, “I’m not sure if you’re grumbling because we’re on display like whores in Amsterdam or because you hate me. Give me a sign, here, girl, we’ve only got a few minutes.” Then she picked me up and put me on her lap and I CONTINUED to grumble because I was MOST displeased. “I know what you’re saying, Newcat,” said the lady. “I think it’s high time we blow this popstand, what do you say?”

Then the lady put me back in my cage and I thought perhaps it was like all the other times I had been petted but then returned. Oh, well, I thought. Nice try. But THEN the ladies that work in the shelter PUT ME IN A BOX. A BOX! How ignominious! I did not like that. No I did not. I grumbled and made protesting meows. Then I heard the lady. “Ready to go home, Newcat?” the lady said. Well! What is this strange turn of events, I ask you?

Now I am in a new place, which I have investigated thoroughly. There is a cat here who seems…challenged. He follows me around with a most vacant expression in his eyes. I have put him in his place with grumbles and hisses. He seems undaunted, however.

Earlier, the lady picked me up and put me on the bed. “You can sleep here,” she said. “This whole place is yours now, Newcat.” The bed was soft and crumply with feathers. She laid down next to me and petted and petted me. I couldn’t even help purring and rolling around and headbutting her with much abandon. Please don’t judge me. She’s an excellent petter of cats. She knows all the spots that need petting.

I think I will like it here. It is a home that is most accepting of cats and when I jumped on the table earlier to check out what delicious foodstuffs she was eating for her evening repast she didn’t even yell, just said, “Get off the table, you!” and laughed.

Ah, life, you have perhaps taken a fortuitous turn for me. HISS GRUMBLE. Sorry, that vacant-eyed cat was getting too close again.

Until later, people of the internet. Have very productive days filled with joie de vivre.

(Editor’s note: Yes. It is TRUE! A new cat has entered the Lucy’s Football household. We now have Dumbcat and Newcat. Newcat is currently hiding under the bed; she is plum tuckered out. It’s been a long day for her. We are very pleased; this has been a long time coming. 15 months, actually. Happy birthday, Newcat! I hope you love it here as much as we love having you here!)

27 comments | posted in animals, Cats, happiness, pets, photos

February 1, 2013

True adventures with wildlife, ZOMG

By lucysfootball

I have a very brief period of time to write this. FIRST I have a STORY and then I have a thing I stole from someone else’s blog because I’m like a pirate, yo. Arrr.

This is me, I guess. Arr, matey.

This is me, I guess. Arr, matey.

Here is a story called AMY’S INTERACTION WITH THE GLORY OF WILDLIFE.

This weekend, I went to the library. On the way home, I wanted to stop at a place to pick up some lunch, and I thought, hey, I know a back way to get there. So I turned down the back way all pioneer-like.

Well, like the pioneers that ended up in Utah or some such shit instead of California, I realized I had made a terrible mistake when the road, which the last time I went down it led me all twisty-turny to the road with all the restaurants on it, it just…dead-ended. I knew they’d done some construction, but a little sign saying “this is a dead end now” might have been helpful. To add insult to injury, the reason it was now a dead-end was because they’d put a little hill across the street. You could SEE the street right on the other side of the hill where I needed to be. I mean, there was no way to get OVER the hill, but you could SEE over the hill, and the street was TAUNTING me. Dammit.

Curses, foiled again.

Curses, foiled again.

So grumblingly, I turned around and went back up the same street I’d just gone down. Well, at least I now know you can’t go down that street to get anywhere. So I won’t do that again, I suppose. So, la la la, here I was, driving back the way I came.

When all of a SUDDEN, what was THIS?, something was in the road! Something somewhat large and…brown…and…

IT WAS A TURKEY A REAL LIVE WILD TURKEY (no, not the liquor) in the ROAD!

So I laughed and laughed! I’ve seen turkeys in the distance, like at the side of the road, but never up close! (I mean, I’ve also seen them dead and waiting to be roasted. And also I’ve eaten them. Because, delicious, you know?)

I turned down the radio and slowed WAYYYYYY down (and peeked in my rearview and there was a truck behind me and I was all “sorry dude, but TURKEY!” but of course it’s not like he heard me) and the turkey STOOD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD! He did not move! That was one cheeky turkey! He made turkey noises (which I GUESS are like “gobble gobble” but are more like a weird underwatery blurbling noise, honestly) and just watched my car coming up and didn’t even move!

Well, I liked that turkey. That turkey had CHUTZPAH. So I watched him for a couple more moments and then felt bad for the truck in back of me so I really slowly went around the turkey and he went “blurble blurble!” and then I drove away. And the truck in back of me totally went around the turkey, too, so I decided he was a nice man who went out of his way for turkeys.

Wild turkeys (NOT THE LIQUOR!) are very funny and very prettily-feathered and this one totally had a wattle. And wise eyes. I liked this turkey very much. But not enough that I’m going to stop EATING turkey. I do very much like poultry. Both when it comes up all unexpected-like in the street, and also with some gravy and stuffing.

I told Dad this story and first he was all, “Maybe that turkey was rabid” which made me laugh, and then he said “Make that turkey noise again. Make it again.” Then he laughed and laughed because apparently I made a very funny turkey noise. Then he said, “Maybe that was a turkey vulture. Do you think it was a turkey vulture?” and I said, “No, Dad, I saw a turkey vulture once. We had one when I worked at the animal shelter. We had to keep it overnight for Fish and Game to come and pick it up and we fed it hamburger and it looked like a dinosaur and it was totally frightening but also fascinating? I kept looking at it in awe.” Dad said, “You are a wonder, daughter of mine. You are a wonder. You love all the animals, don’t you?” and I said, “Yes. But not monkeys or apes, though.” Dad understood because we went to the zoo together that time. He knows I don’t like the monkeys because I hid behind him at the monkey cage most of the time. I don’t trust those wily poo-flinging bastards.

This doesn't even LOOK like a turkey. It looks like a VULTURE. Also like an evil mastermind, a little, right?

This doesn’t even LOOK like a turkey. It looks like a VULTURE. Also like an evil mastermind, a little, right?

Here is part two. I am multitasking this post, yo.

So on Emma Wolf’s blog today (which is like your…um…two days ago or something), she did the Daily Prompt, which was to assume you had time to save five things from your home if it was on fire, assuming all animals and people were safe. What would you save?

Things like this make me think and think. (I don’t know that I’ve ever clicked on that Daily Prompt site. Is that something bloggers are supposed to do? Probably. I never follow the rules, do I? Dammit.)

When my apartment WAS actually on fire, I saved the cats and my purse, which had my phone (back before I had a real phone, it was just a crappy non-smart Tracfone, but at least it was a way to call out) and of course my wallet and things in it. It took a long time to round up the cats. They were all I cared about, to tell the truth. The purse could have stayed. But this is assuming Dumbcat is safe, so he’s out of the picture. Well, that sounded terrible. He’s SAFELY out of THIS picture. Let’s pretend my happy little place is on fire and Dumbcat is safely elsewhere. Where is he? Hell, I don’t know, probably in the car in his carrier or something, let’s not think too deeply about this.

OK, five things, quick like a bunny, I have to call Dad and explain Justified to him for the week.

  1. My purse. It has a lot of things in, my wallet, my cell would be in there, keys, etc. My purse is important. Having to replace all of those cards and such would be a colossal pain in the butt, yo.
  2. My laptop. It has a lot of writing on it. I’d hate to lose that. Yes, yes. I know. I should probably back that shit up on a thumb drive or whatever the kids have today, but I also love to TYPE on my laptop. The laptop has to come with.
  3. Photos. I’m not a huge decorator, but the main thing I have hanging on the walls here are a ton of photos. Most of them are irreplacable. Some of the people in them are long gone; some were gone before wee Amy made the scene. I’m going to assume I have a little bit of time to grab some photos off my wall. It’s my fire; I get to imagine it as I please.
  4. Clothes/shoes/outerwear/etc. I know I won’t have a billion years to be grabbing things, but at least a couple basic outfits. Once, a long time ago, I had to quickly leave my place of residence. I did not have time to grab clothing. Living in the same clothes for days while you try to get the money/time to get some more clothes is not really what you need to be worrying about when you’re dealing with a huge life issue, you know?
  5. My teddy bear. Shh, my house just burned down, I’m going to need my comfort object. Yes, I’m a grown-ass woman. You’re not even allowed to judge. I WAS JUST IN A CATASTROPHIC FIRE.
Yikes, don't do a search for "apartment fire" and expect to get any sleep for the night. Good grief.

Yikes, don’t do a search for “apartment fire” and expect to get any sleep for the night. Good grief.

I find this curious, because as I was doing this, I didn’t have many things I COULDN’T live without. Honestly, if I had to do without all of these things, I could. As long as Dumbcat is safe, I’m ok. There are a lot of things I need in life, but most of them are replacable. The two things I can’t replace are Dumbcat (I mean, he’s not going to live forever, I’m not insane, I know that, but as long as it’s within my power to do so, I’m going to keep him around) and my loved ones. Doing without the people I love…well, things are just things. You can replace things. Or if you can’t replace them, you can learn to live without them. But my people? Well, living without them is not something I want to contemplate. I’ve had to say goodbye to too many people in my life, and when you lose someone you love, that you truly love, the hole that’s left…well, some of you know what that’s like, and some of you, thankfully, don’t, but everyone eventually does, and will. That kind of loss, I don’t know if that ever leaves you. So, yes, fire, consume all my consumables, if you must. My cat and my people are safe? I’m good. I’m fine. They’re all I need.

For a short post, this is very long. Goodnight, internet. Wait, you’re reading this like at noon or something. Happy…um…lunch break, internet. I’m going to see Company of Thieves with one of my best friends tonight! Hooray!

COMPANY OF THIEVES!!!

COMPANY OF THIEVES!!!

63 comments | posted in animals, cars, Cats, driving, Fire, love, thoughts

January 3, 2013

Dumbcat is a Luddite and other revelations

By lucysfootball

I have three things to say and then I have to go because I got my new Kindle and all I want to do is behold it. It is GORGEOUS, you guys. And so much bigger than I thought it would be. And so SHINY. And I want to add all the apps to it and see if it really plays TV shows and start reading books on it because sj showed me how to use my laptop to put books on it (seriously, she is like a GURU, if I ever have questions, I just say, “sj, how do I do…” and she ALWAYS KNOWS and she never even laughs at me when the questions are foolish, and I love her the most) and I have ALL THE BOOKS waiting for me and I am SO EFFING EXCITED and I feel like I am a Jetson. Right now it is charging and also looking at me like, “why aren’t you playing with me why? I am so pretty. I want you to play with me right now, because of my prettiness.”

So let’s talk about three things and then I’m going to tap tap tap away on my pretty screen. Also I totally got a burnt orange cover for it and it was a very good choice. It’s both flashy and retro. I love it irrationally.

Amazon calls this "persimmon" but it's orange, yo, don't be gettin' fancy on me, Amazon.

Amazon calls this “persimmon” but it’s orange, yo, don’t be gettin’ fancy on me, Amazon.

First: the mystery of the cable and the phone.

So I still have a house phone. If all goes well and I get my new phone later in the week and it has unlimited minutes and I get good coverage in my house and I can change my home number to my cell number (because I’ve had the same home number for ten years, I don’t want to change it, I don’t like change, I FEAR IT) then maybe I’ll think about getting rid of the home number. ANYWAY, my cable and my phone are controlled by the same little box under my television set. My internet is controlled by a different box, that one’s in my bedroom. Anyway, last night when I got home from hangin’ with The Nephew, I noticed that the merry green lights (there are usually 6) were down to two, and they were flashing all irregularly on the cable box. Sometimes my cable goes all wonky, and I wasn’t planning on watching television last night anyway. My phone was still working. So I was all, meh, it’ll be fine tomorrow.

It looks like this, but longer and skinnier. I don't know what it is. I'm not a cable tech, sheesh.

It looks like this, but longer and skinnier. I don’t know what it is. I’m not a cable tech, sheesh.

When I got home TONIGHT, there were NO GREEN LIGHTS. And my phone didn’t work so I had to call Dad on my cell phone and he HATES that because he doesn’t recognize the number in his caller ID so he thinks I’m a killer or a telemarketer. So then I called the cable company and apparently they were having problems with the cable guide. “If you are experiencing problems with your cable guide, please be patient, it’ll be back soon,” said the recorded lady. “If you have ANOTHER problem, please hold. The current wait time is TEN TO FIFTEEN MINUTES.” Eff. EFF. That was annoying. So I settled in for a long winter’s wait and decided for the hell of it I’d unplug the cable box and then plug it back in because one time that worked and I’m a sucker for doing things that worked one time.

I went behind the cable box and unplugged the phone cord thingy and plugged it back in. Nothing. Unscrewed the thick cord, no idea what that’s called, screwed it back in. Nothing. Sighed deeply. Then I thought, wait a minute, where’s the power in this thing coming from?

Yeah. From the power cord. That was sticking up behind it. Unplugged from it.

Sigh.

Sigh.

I plugged it back in and all the green lights immediately came back and now I have cable and phone again and I hung up on the cable company where I still had at least 10-12 minutes of wait time left.

Who’s the culprit? I mean, cords don’t just come unplugged.

The answer is, DUMBCAT.

He loves to sleep on top of the cable box. LOVES. It’s warm and it’s a little space because my TV stand is an old desk so the cable box and related things are in the little hidey-hole that goes to the right of your legs if you’re sitting at a desk. There’s JUST enough room above them for a chubby cat if he squeezes himself in there and then he’s all warm and secure and purry. A couple of days ago, he fell out of there. His claws got caught on the top of the cable box. So he tumbled out and gave that hidey-hole a very dirty look for tricking him like that. The cable box was poking out of the hole when he was done. I poked it back in and laughed a little.

ZOMG radiator-bed. Dumbcat would LOVE this. Although he would squish out the ends. He's a chubby little monkey.

ZOMG radiator-bed. Dumbcat would LOVE this. Although he would squish out the ends. He’s a chubby little monkey.

Apparently when he did that, he unplugged the cable box.

Oh, Dumbcat. You plus electronics = not compatible. I still love you the most, though. (He is currently curled up on my leg purring like a maniac. He doesn’t even care that he turned off the cable and phone. DOES. NOT. CARE. He’s like a furry kind unintelligent honey badger in that way. He also might hate technology.)

Story the second: the mystery package.

So I got my Kindle, and in a separate package (because Amazon is nothing if not wasteful) I got the charger (that I had to buy separately – way to make extra money, there, Amazon, because you KNOW people are going to buy chargers, otherwise, their Kindles won’t work) and something else I bought separately in another box. When I got to my door, there was ANOTHER package. “Huh,” said I. “I didn’t order anything else.” (Well, I DID, but it’s not coming until next Wednesday.) So I manhandled all these packages upstairs (the third package was HEAVY) and when I got it upstairs and looked at it, it was for someone named Brad who lives in another building and another apartment which is NOWHERE NEAR MINE and not even CLOSE and nothing about his address has anything to do with mine. Way to GO, UPS! This poor guy is waiting for his package (it’s some sort of electronics; if I wasn’t such an honest person, I’d totally open it up and steal it, wouldn’t I?) and I have it. I don’t know this guy, or even where his building is, to be honest – this is a big place – so I’m going to bring it to the office tomorrow night and let them take care of this situation, I’m sure they have a phone number for him or something. But listen! This poor guy! He’s probably waiting for whatever this heavy thing is, and if he tracks it, it’ll say it was delivered, and it WAS, but not to HIM, to ME. And also, what if I was a thief? This makes me nervous about ordering things, honestly, UPS. You should be more careful.

Have theft problem made me giggle. THEFT PROBLEM!

Have theft prob made me giggle. THEFT PROB!

Finally: let’s talk about my hatred of acronyms for a minute.

I don’t mind NORMAL acronyms. Like, if someone were to say “I went SCUBA diving” I wouldn’t want to stab with with a knitting needle. But the texting acronyms that have become pervasive in modern society make me want to punch someone in the brain-area.

I refuse to use LOL. UTTERLY REFUSE. If something makes me laugh out loud, I will tell them, “that made me laugh out loud.” I will SPELL THAT SHIT OUT. LOL annoys the PISS out of me. I know EVERYONE uses it, and it doesn’t bother me SO much when others use it, but I just won’t. Won’t won’t won’t. I worked with a guy who SAID it to me once. “That’s so funny, LOL,” he said. “Did you just say LOL to me? Instead of LAUGHING?” I said, with a disgusted look on my face. “Well, duh,” he replied. “If you think you’re saving time, you’re not. Laughing would have taken you like a second. And also you’d have looked like less of a tool.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re so old,” he said. “All the kids say LOL.” “They don’t SAY LOL, they WRITE LOL,” I said. He LOLed again only this time with his mouth. He was a good kid. I couldn’t hate him. He was a big goof. He meant no harm.

The latest ones that make me insane are “FML,” “SMH,” and “YOLO.” All three of these are the stupidest. Some of the sweetest people I know use FML quite often. And don’t seem to understand that it’s SO STUPID AND EMO AND OVER THE TOP. I always read it as the person is saying it with the back of their hand on their forehead like they’re swooning. “OH, EFF EMM ELL!” I imagine them gritting out, all sad and whiny. Listen. Are you breathing? Do you have food and a roof and a job and such? Then no. No, don’t say FML. It makes you sound like an asshole. The things they put in front of FML are never good enough to warrant it, either. “I can’t believe I have to get out of my warm bed today, FML.” “Ugh, mom’s serving mashed potatoes again, FML.” SERIOUSLY? Just once, I want someone to post “Oh, there are parasites in my drinking water again, I have to walk a mile each way to the well for fresh water today, FML” or something, because THEN it would be WARRANTED, dammit.

Yes. Eff your Ell, my dear. Eff it right in the A.

Yes. Eff your Ell, my dear. Eff it right in the A.

SMH just annoys me. (By the way, I didn’t know what any of these meant and had to look them all up online. I think probably the only one I use is BTW. Maybe others, I can’t think of any off the top of my head.) Again, people way overuse this. “Just saw someone paying for their purchase with pennies, SMH.” MAYBE HE WAS POOR AND IT WAS THE ONLY MONEY HE HAD AVAILABLE TO HIM, SERIOUSLY. Stop SYH and start being less of an asshole about shit.

Oh, good, look, you can get it as a button. In case you wanted to tell EVERYONE you're a goober.

Oh, good, look, you can get it as a button. In case you wanted to tell EVERYONE you’re a goober.

And YOLO? People are getting TATTOOS of this. You only live once, huh? Well, maybe try to make this life count, then, and stop effing it up with things like YOLOing. Also, this one reminds me of Rolos and I hate those, the caramel’s too chewy. I think I read somewhere that YOLO won the most hated word of the year award or something. GOOD. Let’s stop USING it, then. YOLO! And I’m going to cut it short because you keep SAYING YOLO! By stabbing you with nail scissors in the uvula!

Oh, Efron. Aren't YOU so cutting-edge? Sigh.

Oh, Efron. Aren’t YOU so cutting-edge? Sigh.

OK, that’s it, chickadees, I’ve got a Kindle that’s not going to play with itself. (NOT A EUPHEMISM.) Have a happy Thursday and I hope your aren’t SYH and nothing happens to make you say FML because YOLO, you know? LOL.

UGH. I want to cut my fingers off with pinking shears for typing that shit.

42 comments | posted in annoying, Cats, pets, social media, technology, writing

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