Day 15: My Illegal Fantasy

First off, I need to emphasize that I am a pacifist. I do not believe in war, weapons, violence (except boxing and hockey), physical parental discipline, or actually smacking stupid people in the head—although that one is tempting. Before making this next statement I should probably also state unequivocally that I do not believe in animal abuse. All that said, I want to beat my two cats with a heavy, blunt object most of the time. I do realize that karma quite possibly might smack me bout the head just for having such thoughts, but if you met my cats you’d know it is worth the risk.

I have two cats. Jeremy, a skinny, cantankerous black cat enjoys whining, making noise in the middle of the night and peeing on the bed when he’s annoyed about something. The peeing part has ruined three down comforters, a dozen blankets and numerous sets of sheets. Along with his talent for bed-wetting he has also chosen to actually pee on me while I am sleeping in the bed. This fun habit of his is usually spurred by my forgetting to clean out the litter box one day or not being home enough to give him the love and attention he feels he deserves. His logic might be a bit flawed on that one, because the more he wakes me with a golden shower, the less I want to give him attention, or at least the kind of attention that does not result in him flying across the room.

Sylvia, is a fat, slightly thick-furred, part Siamese with the most beautiful blue eyes and a loud, incessant meow that makes me want to muzzle her. Her talent is that every morning she jumps on the bed, walks up to my face and sneezes. Every morning. Her charming habits also include a love of water, especially the shower and she will sit on the edge of the bathtub meowing loudly for hours. In the past, I have been tempted to drown her in the shower she loves so much, but she would likely enjoy it, thus voiding the punishment aspect of that particular fantasy. Sylvia also enjoys shedding on every surface of my house and gorging on food until she vomits, but not on the easily cleaned hardwoods, no, she prefers whatever rug is nearest.

After hearing about the eclectic charms of my two feline houseguests people frequently cite my patience and marvel that I have not turned them out yet. I’m not quite a crazy cat lady, but there have been days at a time when the only creatures I have contact with are the cats. I talk to them, explain things to them, ask them questions, and generally interact with them as if they can understand me. I have never referred to them as “my children,” however, so I suppose that’s a kind of plus. Even so, they are my responsibility and I feel obligated to keep them happy and healthy, even when I wake to find a pile of vomit and a random cat turd in the hallway. I guess it’s amazing what we can get over or put up with in the name of love. Although, if it were the husband dropping stray turds throughout the house, love might not be enough to cover his ass, so to speak.

We do crazy things for our pets and sometimes the things we are willing to do, make us a little crazy in the process. I am thankful for the companionship they have given me over the years, especially in light of our frequent moves and the husband’s military deployment. I don’t have children and I’m not sure I will ever want them, but I do love my crazy cats and they comfort me when no one else can. Except for a random incident that involved me biting Jeremy and another episode in which I pinned Sylvia to the floor with a firm hand, I’d say I’ve been a rather gentle and forgiving cat parent. Still, there are plenty of days when I have luxuriated in the thought of euthanasia. The downside of that possible resolution, is its lack of satisfying physical whacking of the offenders. So maybe I’m only a pacifist in actions, but you can’t persecute me for my thoughts.