a boo boo boo

Elle is threatening to get me a kitten for Christmas. She works for the SPCA, and she can do that kind of thing. She can liberate a teeny tiny little kitten with the sweetest pink nose and giant bat ears and big liquid eyes full of love and mayhem, with a purr like a rattle and paws like little shovels, an itty bitty fluffy cotton ball of adorable doom and loose bladder, with claws like tiny needles that sink right into the jelly of my eyeball.

You can see that I’m kind of torn on the issue.

I’ve already got this Fang thing, my fat little buddy who is a little bit dumb and a whole lot of lovable, mostly because he’s dumb, but partly because of the habit, he has of flying over to me whenever I settle into a stationary position for even a second, and flopping around over and on and near me until he has achieved a satisfactory amount of contact, whether it is falling over on my lap with all four feet trembling in the air, or delicately stretching out a paw and placing it gently on my wrist. He must be touching me in some way, it seems, and I can’t help but be completely and unabashedly charmed by that.

Well, maybe a little abashedly charmed by that.

So I love my cat, even when he is licking my nose, or biting me
suddenly and without warning right on the face and giving me rabies, or
knocking over my wine glass or stepping directly on my fresh tattoo.
And sometimes I think he is lonely—when I am not home, it is like a
panic sweeps over him and he becomes convinced he is going to die in a
freak house inferno, so that when I come home, he comes screeching up
to me, scolding, scolding, scolding. “Do you know what time it is?
Where have you been? What have you been doing? You smell like smoke!
Out partying, when I could have died of asphyxiation in a terrible
fire! But no, you never think of me, do you? You only think of
yourself, don’t you? I could have starved to death—oh, no, don’t
think filling up my bowl is going to make me forgive you. I am not so
weak that kibble is the key to my heart, you know,
you monster. You can’t just prance in here and…oh, I am a little
hungry. And listen to it jingle when it hits the bo…mmph. Mrrph. Mmph.
Mmph. Oh, yeah. That’s the stuff. Mmph. Crunch. Hey! Where are you
going? Why aren’t you watching me eat? Are we sitting? Let’s sit! I
like to sit. We’re friends! Yay! I can’t stay mad at you.”

Or I could be the lonely one. But I think it would be good to have some
companionship for him and the exercise a kitten would bring into his
life, and the mental stimulation, because I know he’s not getting
particularly mentally stimulated by sleeping all day, or watching his
Program.

And then I think that I’m a crazy fucking cat lady, who possibly needs
hobbies (that don’t fill her with rage) and that having a second cat in
a studio apartment is a really poor idea, and what if it is not a good
cat? What if it is a bad cat who pees on things? What if it makes me
tired? The idea of a second cat makes me tired. No second cat.

But when I’m hanging out with Elle, and she is telling me, in that
sweet voice she has, that there was the most perfect white kitten in
the world, today, and it is so fluffy and tiny and sweet and made of so
much pure love and spangly sunshine that it is like mainlining
adorableness so hard you are knocked right the fuck out, and wouldn’t
they look so good together, the little white cat and the little black
cat, I start to second-think. I start to think, “A kitten! That’s what
will make my life complete!” and so far everything’s been on my side
and I’ve managed to not blurt out the “YES OH MY GOD ABOOBOOBOO!” that
is percolating under my tongue, but it is only a matter of time before
I’m picking out names and collars and Fang is picking out a way to kick
my ass.

  9 comments for “a boo boo boo

  1. October 25, 2007 at 11:54 am

    Oh, man, I want a kitten. My cat’s lonely during the day, I’m sure of it. And I miss having a tiny, tiny baby cat – we got this cat full-grown and I haven’t had a kitten in years.
    My brother used to have two cats in a studio and managed okay, BTW.

  2. ginger
    October 25, 2007 at 12:22 pm

    A pertinent webcomic:
    http://xkcd.com/231/

  3. October 25, 2007 at 7:48 pm

    2 cats in a studio is a bad idea. I have two in a 1 bedroom and they are territorial. cat spray is stinky, esp in small spaces.

  4. October 26, 2007 at 6:23 am

    I have one cat in a small bedroom in Korea, I adopted her from her last owner who couldn’t bring her home to Canada, and now I’m desperately afraid that I will fall in love with this cat and it will be too stressful for her and me to bring her back to the US with me because I have no plans of settling down when I get home and the 24 hours of plane rides might just kill her and then I know I am in love with her because I call her shmoo shmoo face.

  5. October 26, 2007 at 10:13 am

    I thought my fat little princess cat was bored so I adopted a friend for her. She hated me for it until I brought home a second human for her to cling to because apparently she was unhappy with the cat to human ratio in the house. But Fang is much more relaxed than Abbie is so he would probably love and hug and practically smother a new kitten with affection.

  6. kalmia
    October 26, 2007 at 12:54 pm

    I have to agree with virg. Cats are territorial and they don’t appreciate other cats in their territory. Dogs keep each other company. Humans keep each other company. But adult cats, at best, merely tolerate each other, even if you get them both as kittens in the pet store window (as I did) and they grow up together. Whether your existing cat tolerates the kitten, beats it up, or eventually becomes submissive to it will depend on the personalities of the two cats.

  7. Shawn
    October 26, 2007 at 3:17 pm

    The trick is that you have to introduce them gradually. It can be a time consuming process but it can make the transition a little easier. I used that technique when I adopted Bumble, my baby cat (Maya, my older cat, was two at the time and Bum was six weeks old). There was a lot of drama and hissing and carrying on from Maya at first, but they did eventually get used to each other. That can vary depending on the temperment of the cats, though.

    Maya and Bum still have their moments (they are eleven and nine now respectively), but getting a second cat was the best thing that I ever did for Maya. She became much less demanding of attention from me and it does make me feel a little better when I have to travel knowing that they have each other for company. I also live in a studio after having them in one bedroom apartments their whole lives and they do just fine together.

    Having met the love that is Fang, I can vouch for the fact that he is all that and a bag of chips.

  8. October 27, 2007 at 12:09 pm

    Oh, two is soooo much fun. But be careful… I’m now officially “The Dog Lady” of my neighborhood. And I’m not going to say how many it takes to get that title… but it isn’t two. So you’re safe.

  9. Dolley
    November 7, 2007 at 12:58 pm

    I was worried that my kitty, who had been alone with me for seven years, was desperately in need of a little brother. He’d been getting clingier and clingier. But after all this time, would he adjust? Would the new kitty adjust? Was I crazy? I got in touch with someone who was fostering a kitty, and made sure the kitty could go back if either he or my Dommie was traumatized. I bought Comfort Zone spray, and a Comfort Zone diffuser – which is what you plug in to calm down territorial cats, or scaredy cats, or crazy cats; it’s a kitty pheromone that makes them happy. I bought bowls and another box and a wonderful warm kitty housebed, and made sure there was a separate room for the gradual introduction. Axel yodeled when I finally left him in his lair, so I opened the door, and he hissed! and fluffed! when Dommie checked him out, but Dommie came away when I called him. Back upstairs for Axel. Slept like Jack the Ripper that night. Day Two: Again with the yodeling when I left Axel in his Happy Space. I opened the door, Axel came out investigating. Dommie came over. Was that an ear? It needed to be washed! By the end of Day Two, they were chasing each other around. By the end of Day Three, I was crying because my kitty who loved me and gave me kisses didn’t care if I lived or died – as long as I cleaned the cat box, please.

    By Day Seven, Dommie and his little brother Axel take turns sleeping on me and purring, Dommie is no longer lonely during the day, and no flat surface is safe, anywhere, because Axel can levitate. Or fly.

    So: company is good. And Comfort Zone with Feliway is a magical, wonderful thing.

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