Blogs, Busywork, and Bats

What, spell bats with a K? Kats! I never thought of that, what a silly bunt! 😉

OK, but seriously. I have decided, after much deliberation and agonizing, to re-home my cats.

“Re-home my cats” here means that I am the worst cat mom ever, and I have to give my kittens away to good homes where they will be paid much more attention to. I would say “homes where they will be loved,” but that implies that I don’t love them, which of course, I desperately do. Of course, I wouldn’t want to give them away to someone who would hate them… you know what I mean.

Now that I’ve made this decision, I want it done instantly. Who wants something this horrible to drag out over time? Watch the cats disappear one by one?

I’m attempting to make myself feel better about discarding my trusting cats by reminding myself of the good things that will come of this:

1. My house will be rid of cat-hair-tumbleweeds, and the ever-present film of litter that manages to get everywhere no matter how much I sweep. No longer will a floor I have mopped become instantly covered in Bonk’s projectile-snot blobs (this is true, she has a permanent mucous-rich head cold). No more hairballs, or unexpected surprises in places which are NOT the litterbox.

2. I won’t have to sacrifice half of my apartment to the cats anymore. Right now they’re relegated to my office (don’t worry, it’s not tiny) because I couldn’t stand the cat hair situation any more in my bedroom (which, funnily enough, is also my living room). I imagine not having to keep all of my interior doors closed, air moving freely through my apartment which has neither air-conditioning, nor heat.

3. I will be able to have PLANTS. Aside from the fact that most common houseplants are poisonous to cats, even non-poisonous ones always get eaten by Foo, who has no idea that he’s killing them (or at least making them ugly).

4. I will be able to place breakable objects on high surfaces.

5. I will be able to light candles without fear of Bonk catching her tail on fire. (Haven’t I told you that story yet? No? Right, I’ll try to get to that soon.)

6. Killer will no longer head-butt me in the chest for attention. I swear she knows where I am in my cycle and waits for that unfortunate time when my glorious breasts (ok, ok, but it’s fun to say it) are nice and sensitive. The little bitch. (I don’t mean that, really. Or maybe I do, but only in a loving way.)

7. I will actually be able to entertain a small crowd at my apartment without having to worry about Bonk clawing a guest’s legs to pieces because she still hasn’t quite got the knack of retracting her claws when she plays. Or Foo, being sneaky, stealing someone’s food when they’re not looking. Or, heaven forbid, one of them getting out of the front door as someone enters or exits! (Anyone who’s had an indoor cat knows what kind of hell you go through when you think your cat has escaped and you’re positive that they will immediately be run over by a vehicle.)

8. Safe-Dancing-Guy (who is allergic to animals) will be able to visit my place without fear of hives or anaphylactic shock.

But, oh.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

I will miss Bonk’s sweet and trusting face, her chirruping conversations, her beautifully soft fur, how she likes to sleep on my face when I’m fast asleep and can’t fend her off.

I will miss Foo’s gravitas (yes, my cat could so out-gravitas Colbert if he had to), his lovely neckerchief of white fur, his very special purr that he only gives to me and no-one else. This is short and doesn’t begin to describe the love I have for this cat.

I’ll miss Killer’s ability to find ways to get to the tallest structure in the house, and then claim it for her own. I’ll miss her ability to kick Foo’s ass when he needs it. I’ll miss the rare but wonderful baths that she bestows on Bonk (with whom she normally doesn’t get along). And I’ll miss that she either a) sings with me when I sing; or b) yells at me when I sing. (I can really never tell which she’s doing.)

And so I’m begging the gods of cat-re-homing to grant me my wish that this be over soon — that I’ll find wonderful people to love and play with my kittens. Hopefully I’ll find friends for this so that I can go visit the cats sometimes.

This will be my first time in 10 years (if not 11 or 12, I can never remember how old Foo is) without cats in my life.

Wish me luck, please.