I'm a Cat Mom

I don't have kids.

But I have cats.

I have four fantastically funny, furry, feline friends and they make me smile every single day.

Now don't mistake me, I'm not comparing cats to kids here...no, wait a second. Yes I am. While they may not speak English, require lessons in manners or the alphabet, or need me to eventually pay for their college tuition, they are every bit my four-legged children.

Let me explain.

How My Cats Are Just Like Children

They keep me company, snuggle with me when I'm sad, make me giggle on a daily basis, and miss me when I'm gone--even if it's just for an hour or two in the afternoon. It's true. I even have video proof.

If you can't see the above video, click HERE, or copy and paste the following code into your internet browser: http://youtu.be/oTh1Hg1-nbQ

They require my attention when it comes to their health, welfare, and food. Especially the food part. Pip never lets me forget when it's time for a meal.

They enjoy being the center of attention, and will do whatever is necessary to ensure that you're paying attention to them. And not that show you're watching, that laundry you're folding, or that book you're reading.

They bring me such joy with their antics that sometimes it's a wonder that my heart doesn't burst from loving them so much. Whether they're playing with a plastic lid from a water bottle, sleeping all snuggled together in a group, or hiding from the world in a discarded cardboard box, it makes me giddily happy to see them have such a grand time in their little lives.

I constantly fret over them, nurture them, spoil them, and adore them. When somebody wants a snuggle, they're getting a snuggle. All other things---work, life, phone calls, meal preparation---will wait until the snuggle is over.

So many people have told me that when I have my own kids that it will be different. That I'll still love my pets but that I'll love my children in a different, bigger way. Well, I just don't see how that's possible. 

Because I already know how being a Mom feels, even if it's only to four fuzzy little faces.

FatKat Comics: Company's Comin'!

FatKat Comics: An Easter Surprise

FatKat Comics: Cat Math

FatKat Comics: A Special Day

Comparisons

A Day In the Life of Me (Abby)


7:45 am: Alarm goes off. Bladder is uncomfortably full. Smack the snooze button, convince my bladder it can wait 30 more minutes, go back to sleep.


7:55 am: Alarm goes off again. Bladder now fit to bursting. Waddle to the bathroom, empty my bladder, return to bed.


7:56 am: Feel someone staring at me. Open my eye a crack and see this:

Dizzy thinks sleeping is a team sport.

7:56 and a half am: Realize, in this moment, that my plan to sleep till 8:30 is never going to happen. Sigh, scratch Dizzy's head, get back out of bed.


8:00 am: Turn on shower, lean head against wall, and sleep standing up for five full minutes.


8:05 am - 8:45 am: Shower, dress, accessorize. Add some eyeliner and mascara and I'm ready for the day.


8:46 am: Look at the clock, realize the day has barely started and I already miss my husband.


8: 47 am: Pine for my husband.


8:59 am: Trudge to the office, sigh, open the door, change the sign from CLOSED to OPEN, turn on my phone, and prepare for the drudgery to begin.


9:00 am to 9:45 am: Process letters, return phone calls, answer emails, and other sundry boring office duties.


9:46 am: Throw a shoe at the cats, who have been meowing incessantly since 8:03 am for their breakfast. Finally break down and just feed them so they'll shut up, even though I'm *supposed* to feed them at 10.


10:00 am to 11:00 am: Various household chores, which is boring, so I'll make something up to entertain you: this is when I bathe and brush my unicorn. He thanks me with glitter and rainbows.


11:01 am: It's AbbyGabs time! Yay!


11:02 am - whenever I'm done: Look for pictures, play around with Photoshop, Twitter-stalk Donnie Wahlberg, get distracted by Facebook and Youtube, finally come up with a blog topic and bang it out in thirty minutes or less.  Also, intermittently answer the phone, provide the same 4 answers to the same 4 questions I get asked everyday, process a few payments, and wish I had a PhD in something, or else a nice quiet farm where I could write without being disturbed.


Approximately 2:00 pm: Proudly publish my blog, and think "Wow, Brian is really gonna laugh at this one." Look at the clock, realize it's only 2:00, and that I still miss my husband.


2:01 pm: Pine for my husband.


2:02 pm - 4:36 pm: Find ways to make the day go by faster, while also continuing to answer the phone and answer the same 4 questions again and again. Watch TV, think about Donnie Wahlberg, check my Netflix account to see when my next Gilmore Girls DVD is going to be delivered, check my watch a thousand times, and finally settle down with a book.


4:37 pm: Phone rings and I know immediately it's my afternoon "Boss Phonecall." I answer HIS four questions that he asks me every day at 4:37 pm. Then I listen to him ramble about Chick-Fil-A coupons/the price of batteries at Walgreens/the method by which he changed his oil/something about his mother-in-law's feet (I tuned this one out)/the auction he won on eBay, where he saved approximately 4 cents from retail price on shoe strings. 


4:57 pm: Hang up the phone, pretend to shoot myself in the head with my hand, which isn't a gun but we're pretending. Look at the clock and dance a jig. It's almost 5:00!!


4:58 pm: Dance another jig because it's closer to 5:00!


4:59 pm: Hand is now poised on the door knob, ready to snatch the door open to flip the sign.


5:00 pm: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! Unicorn and I dance happily as we flip the sign, lock the door, turn off the phone, and close up for the day.


5:01 pm: Pine for my husband, again, who would be rejoicing right along with me and Unicorn.


5:02 pm - 5:30 pm: Quickly process end-of-day paperwork, feed the cats, change into my jammies and find my favorite spot on the couch.


5:31 pm - 7:30 pm: If Netflix is on my side, Gilmore Girls marathon. If not, reruns of Cops/make jewelry/crochet/read/enjoy the fact that I'm NOT working.


7:31 pm: Flip it over to Jeopardy, pine for my husband who loves Jeopardy. Then I remember I'm having tuna casserole for dinner, and I dance a little jig because I LOVE fish, and hubby HATES it. 


8:00 pm - 10:30 pm: Dinner (Tuna Casserole, yay!), more Gilmore Girls (or other methods of time-wasting), 800 texts to my husband telling him how much I miss him.


10:31 pm: Power down household (ie: turn off all electronic devices, plug in cell phone and laptop, and head to bed.)


10:35 pm: Bedtime routine consists of brushing teeth, washing face, laying out clean jammies for the hubby (who will stumble home sometime after midnight, smelling like gin--because he's a bartender, not an alcoholic--and money. Hopefully. If it was a good night.)


10:45 - 11:30 pm. Ish. : Read. Every night. Without fail. It's why I have a hundred and seventeen thousand books.


11:31 pm: Set my alarm for 7:45 am, knowing I'll hit the snooze button, turn out the light, and snuggle in for a good night's sleep.


11:35 pm: Feel someone staring at me. I open my eye a crack and see this:

"Mom, is it bedtime?"

11:36 pm: Snuggle up with a purring kitty by my side and drift off into dreamland.




A Day in the Life of Dizzy:


7:55 am: Wake up. Realize I'm hungry. Find Mom.


7:56 am: Stare at Mom.


8:00 am - 9:45 am: Prowl kitchen, jump on Mom's paperwork, scratch at carpet, and other various things that annoy Mom until she feeds us. Also, meowing a lot works, too.


9:46 am: Duck shoe.


9:47 - 10:00 am: Eat my well-deserved, much-worked-for breakfast.


10:01 am - 12:00 pm: Morning nap.


12:01 pm - 2:00 pm: Early afternoon nap.


2:01 pm - 4:00 pm: Mid-afternoon nap.


4:01 pm - 4:36 pm: Trip to litter box and water bowl. Chase Scooter out of the bathroom. Snuggle with Harry. Bathtime.


4:37 pm: Sit on desk and stare at Mom while she holds the phone to her ear and rolls her eyes a lot.


4:57 pm - 5:01 pm: Dodge Mom's dancing feet. Start meowing for dinner.


5:26 pm - 5:49 pm:  Happily eat my dinner while Mom races around the house trying to finish all her stuff so she can relax.


6:00 pm - 7:59 pm: Early evening nap.


8:00 pm: MOM'S HAVING TUNA! SPAZZ OUT!!!!


8:15  pm - 9:00 pm: Late evening nap.


9:01 pm - 10:35 pm: Pre-bedtime nap.


10:36 pm - 10:44 pm: Sit on bed and stare at door, waiting on Mom.


10:45 pm - 11:30 pm: Attempt everything possible to make Mom put down book and scratch my head, including pushing book with my head, nudging head underneath book to look adoringly at Mom, lying in front of book on Mom's chest, and batting bookmark with paw.


11:35 pm:  Stare at Mom until she puts her arm around me and we fall asleep, snuggling.

Conversations with My Cats

We talk for our cats.


Maybe I shouldn't just jump into that statement without explaining first. So, let's rewind, and I'll explain.


I have a pretty good feeling that every pet owner in the world speaks to their pet. Maybe even in a high-pitched baby voice. We certainly do that. Everyone in my family does. (Our family, friends, and readers of my other blog won't be surprised one iota by this post.)


The difference between us and the rest of the world--we narrate our cats' lives.


In other words, if I ask my cat, Scooter, what he's up to, my husband will answer for him. And each cat has their own specific voice, character, and sayings. (No we're not crazy. I swear.) We've been doing this for so long that it may be difficult for you to convince me that I don't have active conversations with my cats.


You're still scratching your head like you don't have a clue what I'm talking about. Let me go one step further and allow you to take a sneak peak into our lives.


Conversation with Dizzy
(The role of Dizzy will be played by me. The role of Husband will be played by B.)
Dizzy strolls into the room, leaps up onto the couch and peers at us with an annoying look on his face.
Husband: Hey, Dizzy. Whassamatter? You're looking a bit....peeved.
Dizzy: I am, Dad. I really am.
Husband: Well, what happened?
Dizzy: Harry was born, Pip looked at me, and Scooter is breathing.
Husband: They're your brothers, pal. You should be nice to them.
Dizzy: (looking down his nose disdainfully) The day you brought them home was the worst day of my life. (Dizzy snuggles up in Husband's lap and looks up at him adoringly.) Can't we just give them away? Plllleeeeeease, Dad?
Husband: Give them away? I think not.
Dizzy: (looks away and starts cleaning his foot) Fine. But I will not stop asking.

Conversation with Harry
(The role of Harry will be played by me. The role of Husband will be played by B.)
Harry sits in Husband's lap and rubs his face on Husband's chin.
Harry: I love you, Dad.
Husband: I love you, too, buddy.
Harry: No, Dad, you don't understand. I LOVE you. (gives Husband a soft head butt.)
Husband: I know, buddy. I LOVE you, too. (pats Harry on the head.)
Harry: NO, Dad. You don't understand. I really, really LOVE you. (gives Husband a harder head butt.)
Husband: I know, I know. You're a good cat, Harry.
Harry: Oh, Dad. You're the bestest Dad of all the Dads in the whole entire land. (purrs loudly)
Husband: And you're the bestest Harry of all the Harrys in the whole entire land.

Conversation with Pip
(The role of Pip will be played by B. The role of Wife will be played by me.)
Pip comes into the living room, sits at Wife's feet, and meows loudly.
Wife: What is it, Pip?
Pip: Hungry.
Wife: What's that? You're hungry?
Pip: Yes, mom. Food.
Wife: But Pip, it's only 4:30. You have to wait another 30 minutes.
Pip: (meows loudly again) No, Mom. Hungry. Food now.
--30 minutes of meowing ensues, as well as a countdown to dinner time from Wife--
Pip: (meows loudly for 153rd time) Mom. Hungry. Food now.
Wife: Oh, for Pete's sake. You're annoying. (gets up from couch and heads to the kitchen)
Pip: (scurries into the kitchen ahead of Wife, moving faster than he's moved in 7 years, meowing all the way) Food! Food! Food! Food!

Conversation with Scooter
(The role of Scooter will be played by me. The role of Husband will be played by B.)
Scooter races into the room, tail floof puffed out, and meows loudly.
Scooter: ♪♫ Dun dun naaaaaaa!! ♪♫ I am Scoo-Tar the MAGNIFICENT!
Husband: Yes. Yes you are.
Scooter: Hey Dad! Hey Dad! Guess what I just did????
Husband: What did you just do, Scoot?
Scooter: I swatted Pip in the head....and and and then I jumped over Harry's back....and and and then I pounced on Dizzy and made him squeal like a little girl. HAHAHA! I am the awesomest man cat that has ever roamed the earth!
Husband: (chuckling) Yes, Scooter. You are Magnificent.
Scooter: That's right Dad. Scoo-Tar the Magnificent. That's my THEME song, man. Oh! Somebody's making noise! Gotta go see! ZOOM ZOOM ZOOM! (Scooter dashes from the room, leaving nothing but floof behind him.)
Husband to Wife:  That cat is CRAZY.

See? TOTALLY un-crazy. Right?

I Like Lists.

There's nothing more satisfying than checking things off of a list. Grocery list, to-do list, bucket list---when I can strike a line through an item on said list with a black permanent marker, I have an actual physical reaction. 

"Ahhhh."

Satisfaction. It's why I make lists. I currently have a list of 30 things I want to accomplish before I'm 30---I've checked off 8 things so far, and I'm working on the 9th and 10th thing now. But I'll get to that list in a later post.

Today's post is all about meeting my family. "But Abby, what does that have to do with lists?" you may ask. Simply this: I'm going to introduce you to my family using lists. It's concise, it's interesting, it's a quicker read, and I don't have to worry about coming up with clever segways. Those can be tricky. So...without further ado, meet my clan.

Brian--The Husband

1. The other day, when I found my first grey hair, Brian looked at me and said, "Honey, you DON'T have grey hair. It's just your imagination, and you are beautiful." This proves that Brian is generous, caring, conscious of other people's feelings, and a terrible liar.

2. He sings to me. Not that he's American Idol material, because he's not, but there's something adorable about a man serenading you with Rod Stewart's "Have I Told You Lately," when it's slightly off key.

3. He dreams one day of having a man-cave worthy of his quickly-growing collection of Transformers. He wants a shelf that runs the entire circumference of the room--I think built-ins would be better suited.

Dizzy--The First Born

1. Dizzy has an aversion to books (particularly when they're interrupting snuggle time with Mom), his brothers (particularly Scooter), and thunderstorms.

2. He was an only-cat for almost a year before we adopted Harry. In that time span we managed to create a spoiled, attention-starved, self-important child. (Wait, did I just describe all felines?)

3. Dizzy doesn't do so well with crowds, especially if he feels trapped in a corner somewhere. Coo at him for 30 seconds, though, and all is right with the world.

Harry--Brian's Cat

1. Harry is the alpha-male of the house. He doesn't have to try very hard to be the boss--he just tosses his weight around and they all fall in line.

2. Despite being the boss, he's also the most affectionate, with people AND his brothers. He gives great kitty kisses (in the form of sometimes violent head butts), and loves taking naps with his daddy.

3. Do NOT, I repeat, do NOT bring roast beef into this house unless you want to be mauled by psycho-kitty. He LOVES roast beef---it is his drug of choice.

Pip--The Informer

1. If you ever decide to come visit our humble abode, don't worry about bringing a travel alarm clock. You won't need one. Pip will wake you promptly at 8:30, begging for his breakfast. Ever seen the cartoon, Simon's Cat? He stole that idea from Pip. (Not really, but they're almost identical. Except Pip doesn't know how to wield a baseball bat.)

2. Pip LOVES my mother. He's happy to have anyone scratch his head, but when Grammy comes over, Pip struts over, meows loudly, and flops over on his back like a sunbather on South Beach. In that position he will stay until my mother collects her things and leaves the property.

3. If you ever retrieve the can-opener from the top drawer, expect to be attacked. It doesn't matter if you're opening a can of beans, he'll think it's tuna fish and demand that you share.

Scooter--Blog Author Extraordinaire

1.  You read that correctly. Scooter has his own blog--The FatKat Kronicles. (Inevitably, you'll race right over there to read said blog. Be forewarned...Scooter has been busy perfecting his Wiggle-and-Pounce, so there hasn't been much blogging lately. We're hoping he'll be more dedicated to blogging again, as soon as he finally takes down Harry in a wrestling match.)

2. Scooter's floof is the most amazing floof of all the floofs in the world. This isn't a preening mother's opinion, this is a FACT.

3. Scooter chases ice cubes. Know how I said to avoid roast beef and the can opener? Well...if you ever open the freezer door, you'll instantly have an orange tabby at your feet, looking up expectantly for you to toss an ice cube on the floor. WARNING: You won't be able to say no to his adorable face. (Also, it should be said that walking around our kitchen in socked-feet is a BAD idea. They'll get wet every time.)

So there you have it, blogosphere. My family, in lists. *Abby takes a bow.*