Height of the Holiday Season

Ashley's back! And looking as ridiculous as ever...I saw that costume and had to buy it. I had a Santa costume in my hand but then I saw the elf, which seemed so much more fitting for her: mischievous, but still cute. So Santa was returned to the shelf and for a mere $5.99, Jim and I got a ton of laughs at her expense.

These pictures are old...from back in December...and I've only now found the time to post it. Despite my initial plans to torment my darling cat all throughout the holidays by dressing her in this, this was the only time that I managed to get around to it. Well, at least I have photos and there's always next year.

My sister says that Ashley looks like she's plotting a murder. I have to agree. After I sent her the phtoto, she sent me a cropped version that focuses-in on Ashley's seething, burning eyes (see above). This version makes it all the more clear...that's one pissed off cat. Hee, hee, hee. Of course I laugh and chuckle while forgetting that I'll probably be cleaning up retaliatory turds for weeks...but darn it, look at that picture--maybe it's worth it.

The Two Sides of One Cat

Isn’t she sweet. Laying in the sun, on one of our kitchen chairs. Enjoying all of the glory of being an overindulged modern housecat. She can be the most loving and adorable cat on earth, and she often makes me wonder if I could ever be without such a fine-furry companion.

And then she does this.

About 3-5 times a week.

She takes a big crap at the bottom of our basement stairs (and as you may be able to tell, she’s also confused this area with the proper peeing venue quite a few times as well—that leaves more lasting and smelly evidence--and as an additional note, that's the reason for the plastic mats). So, I wake up several times a week and descend the stairs with my hot coffee and bowl of cereal (with milk on it, already doing it’s cereal-sogging work) to find a big fat turd at the bottom of the stairs (or rather a group of fat turds, as was the case this morning).

For a while, I was determined that she would stop this behavior, so I attempted punishment in hopes that she would start choosing her clean litter pan over our carpeting. On mornings when turds were left for me, I would bring her downstairs, “show” her the mess she made and confine her to the utility room for the balance of the day. The utility room is a decently sized room, which also contains her litter pan and one feeding station (of two in the entire house). I made sure to remove any piles of laundry or baskets with clean or dirty laundry from the floor (this is also the laundry room), as well as any other cuddly spots that would make the confinement similar to sending a child to their room where they have an X-Box and a TV. Then, I would listen to a cat wailing all day as I worked in the basement (also my office). “This is a mistake. Please, let me out of here. Help. Is anyone there?”

After weeks of this routine, it is I instead of the cat who has been conditioned. I found this turd this morning as I walked downstairs with my breakfast. Did I hunt the cat down, scold her and inflict the proper punishment in hopes of altering her behavior? No. I shrugged, said “fucking cat”, and cleaned it up. And she’s upstairs right now, sitting on that same kitchen chair, having the time of her life. I take this as sign #280 that I would make a lousy parent. I can’t even discipline a cat.

This is Just Dumb

She does this about 5 mornings a week: she sleeps on the stairs--right in the middle of the stairs--so I nearly trip over her when I come downstairs in the morning. And she chooses a step near the top, so that if I do fall it will be a good distance. It's funny how cats can be so clever sometimes. Ashley has had her moments of brilliance over the years, but she more often leads us to shake our heads and lament her lack of smarts.

When I first came down the stairs today, she was all spread-out--paws stretched to the wall. And she didn't even move when I walked by (so this isn't some kind of ploy to ensure that she traps us into a feeding first thing in the morning). In fact, she was still there when Jim came downstairs an hour later (he asked me if she was sitting there when I came down, because he nearly tripped over her too). Maybe it will take one of us falling over her to get it through her head...this is not a good place to sleep at night. Or not. Cats may be clever or they may be dumb, but they're always stubborn. And just look at that smug look on her face...thanks, kitty.

I Have Fluffy White Fur, and You Know You Want to Touch It

But look at my claws, and you might think twice. It's true--she needs a clipping. Sorry, kitty.

This is Ashley

So, this is Ashley--the not so friendly to stangers cat. She's a bundle of love when it's just Jim and I at home, but since visitors generally only see her dark side, nobody believes us when we say it.



So today, Ashley says, "Meow", as usual and as I would expect. But I'm pretty sure she's also saying "fuck off", because she will not look at the camera. Thanks, kitty.


How is it that cats can be so entertained just by staring out a window all day? It never fails to amaze me that she keeps herself occupied for hours at a time, just staring outside--and there's nothing going on out there. Curious creatures, to say the least.

I also got one of Jim holding her before she received her breakfast this morning. She looks great; him, less so--he was newly emerged from bed. I still have the picture, but promised not to post it...rainy day blackmail material... :)