The Wonder of Pussy

When I say I live alone, I'm not really being honest. Truth be told

I share my space with the lovely ball of fur on your right. When I say ball of fur, I do not exaggerate. Everything I own is covered in a layer of cat hair. The couch, the bed, the counter top, end tables, books, towels, floors, ceiling fan, and even the walls. I would complain, but it doesn't really do me any good - it was my decision to take on Lucy, and most of the time I have to admit she is a good roomate. She's adorable, she loves to cuddle, and it's oddly comforting to wake up with her face right up in mine even though I know she licks her ass with that face. If only I were that flexible.

However, there are times when you could call ours a downright abusive relationship worthy of a bad Lifetime movie staring Tori Spelling and Tooncis the Driving Cat. Quickly after the 'Good Morning' formalities are over, it's on to the "meow" rant in which she demands to be fed. As soon as the food is laid down, she often looks at me like "what, that's it?". Listen bitch, I already gave in to the evil Vet-endorsed "Science Diet", so you're getting a pretty lavish meal there. Furthermore, she's scratched my faux-leather couch (which, for the record I suppose is my own fault for having a faux-leather couch) to shit, has chewed her way through her fair share of my headphones for my iPod, and no matter how many times I yell at her, she seems to love climbing UNDER the comforter, because it's the final frontier that she needs to cover with her hair.

The crowning glory came last summer when she had a urinary-tract infection. It all began innocently enough with a few random sprays of piss here and there. A visit to the (very-expensive) vet led to her first prescription. Have you ever tried to 'pill' a cat? It should be one of the competitions on American Gladiators. This glorious little white pill caused her to vomit all over the place. Now, my place is small....so a few piles of cat piss and vomit go a long way! Back to the vet- boo hoo hoo- everyone felt so bad for her, and all the pain she was enduring. HELLO? What about me! I'm living in a Jr. one-bedroom apartment now covered in a layer of cat secretions and hair! By the end of it all, I had turned the furniture upside down so that she couldn't make any further deposits and found myself doing everything sitting Indian-style on the hardwood floor. Wouldn't you know it, just days before I had decided she would have to be executed- everything cleared up? Looks like she shares my luck.....

Now, I have to admit, this may be a bit of karma. Anyone who knows me knows that I 'borrow' phrases from various places and use them to death. One of my favorites has always been, "yeah? well your house smells like cat pee". I mean, there aren't many smells worse than this so it's a pretty crafty insult. Additionally, ever since seeing the production of Avenue Q, I've substituted my original Desi-Arnez-inspired greeting of "Lucy, I'm hoooome" to "What's up Lucy the Slut!?"

But let's be honest, it's not like she can comprehend any of this and I certainly don't think she did any of this on purpose. Which leads me to my point - have you ever looked at your (or someone else's pet) pet and really thought about the whole concept? You have an animal.....living in your house! Sometimes when I'm drifting off to sleep - a time when my mind is curiously most active - I think about what it is she does for the 7 hours that I'm sleeping and it scares the shit out of me. That leads me to think about what does she do all day? I mean, I'd like to think it's a balanced timetable of alternated eating, shitting and sleeping, but without a kitty-cam, I will never be sure. What goes through that little kitty mind? Sometimes we stare at each other for a long time and I convince myself that we can read each other's thoughts. However, when I come in from an exceptionally cold day, I try to tell her how lucky she is that I provide a good home and warmth for her while she looks for the quick opportunity to dart in to the hallway. The only response I get is the 7PM "Meow" which clearly means "I don't understand your human language, I've been bored all day, shut-up and hold me NOW!"

Maybe there just really isn't that much to question. We've domesticated certain animals and on the simplest of levels....they're just meant for companionship and all they need in return is food, love...and someone to clean up their shit. This is probably the closest I will ever come to having children, so if these are the terms, I'll take it.

However, if that urinary-tract infection comes back....Lucy the Slut is out of here.

"When the teacher pops a test, then I know I'm in a mess...."

....you know the rest. And if you don't, well, then that's okay because this isn't about you. It's about me. I had a friend tell me that he doesn't read blogs because he thinks they are the most narcissistic thing a person can do. I find that funny, being that he regularly checks the Craigslist "missed connections" to see if that cute guy that was leering at him on the subway thinks he's hot and left him a note to tell him so.

So why "Saved By The Bell"? Well, clearly I have an unhealthy obsession with Zach Morris (however until Mark-Paul cuts his hair, he will remain dead to me) - but that's only one slice of the pie. I consider myself a very lucky person. I seem to always find a way to get by. It's not something I'm bragging about, it's just a fact: My tax refund check comes JUST as I was fretting about money. A friend decides to have a destination wedding over the weekend that they were going to assign me an awful account at work. The guy I was dating decides to cheat on me and saves me the disappointment of being with his sorry ass any longer....you get the idea. All joking aside- I DO feel very lucky in life, and I need to remember that. What better way to do that than to record my life journey (well, my post-30-life-journey anyway)?

So here's where I stand moving forward: I'm a month away from turning 31, I have a great condo, fantastic friends, a secure job (which is pretty damn lucky in this economy), a supportive and loving family - so I'm reminding myself of that as much as possible. Additionally, about 10 years ago, I had aspirations to write a book: "Memoirs of a Bitter Suburban Homo". Well, I'm not (totally) bitter and living in the suburbs anymore, but who knows....you have to start somewhere. This may not turn in to anything, but if I ever did want to pursue that avenue, at least I'll have some material to work with.

If there's one thing I've realized in the last year is that I need to take care of me above all else. Selfish? Sure. But that's where I'm at right now. I'm won't dismiss the fact that I'm an attention hungry person and I'll be sending out the link for others to read this and comment as they wish, but above all else I believe it will give me a creative outlet to rant, rave, question, and comment on all the things that fly around in this very interesting (oversized) head of mine.