UPDATE!

She chose the cats.

FINE. FINE.

I'll update my damn blog, since ANGEL-ASS and RACK-N-ROLL want me to.

"WE WANT UPDATES, WE'RE SO IMPATIENT CUZ WE'RE GURLZ."

YEAH, that's what you sound like.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII'M DRUNK.

perfect time for a blog update.

LESTER. LESTERRRRRRRR. He done shit in the bathroom, but not in his litter box. He'll piss in his litter box, but not shit. Nope. No siree. Poop goes on the floor. Badsmell goes in my room. We're running out of matches to light the scented candles that ANGEL-ASS left behind.

In all seriousness, LESTER has gone from abandoned and put up for adoption in a PetSmart to SPOILED AS HELL in a matter of weeks. I am no longer his friend, I am merely "the one who has the dexterity to hold and operate the brush." The brush is his friend.

This is my first update since ANGEL-ASS moved to Raleigh. The balance here has shifted in favor of the men now that it is just me, LESTER and RACK-N-ROLL. ANGEL-ASS took the girls with her to Raleigh where they can do battle with her downstairslesbianneighbors'dog RILEY. I have met RILEY once and I already know that the cats are not going to get along with RILEY. This blog, however, is not about RILEY/Raleigh. It's about me. Or the cats.

I am here in the apartment with LESTER. I cannot imagine a more loving and spoiled cat. Here is how a day unfolds when LESTER is your cat:

5:35-6:00AM LESTER enters the room purring loud enough to rouse you from your dreams, but not loud enough to wake you entirely.

6:15-6:30AM LESTER realizes that you are sleeping, but also becomes aware that sun has risen. Cat logic dictates that since all the other attention he gets is given while the sun is up, the sunrise marks the beginning of the "pay attention to LESTER" hours. He meows for a few minutes to no avail (I hear him, but I ignore him) and then he searches my desk for papers to rustle. Once he has found a piece of paper that makes sufficient noise he rustles it until he gets a tangible response.

6:45-7:15AM I cannot sleep through the rustling of paper any longer. I use a diversion tactic to procure a few more minutes of satisfying sleep: I pull the blinds on the window open about a foot so that LESTER can look outside. I congratulate myself on my strategic brilliance, but my own-horn tooting is premature. LESTER runs eagerly to the windowsill like a slave on the underground railroad spotting the Canadian border, but it is all an act. LESTER has no desire to be look outside. He knows that the only perch from which he can see over the sill is my pillow, so before I put my head back down he sits squarely in the indentation of my head. I now have to try to sleep on the corner of the pillow while he pretends to looks outside.

7:30-8:00AM My alarm goes off once and I hit the snooze button. My alarm goes off a second time and I hit the snooze button. My alarm goes off a third time and I hit the snooze button. Each time my alarm goes off, LESTER takes it as a call to action. He renews his resolution to get me to pay attention to him, and when I try to ignore him he settles back into his place on the bed knowing that the next alarm is only nine minutes away. He has nine lifetimes to wait...what's another nine minutes?

8:00AM-11:00PM LESTER wanders in and out of my room meowing and rubbing against every solid object he can find until I play with him. Within five tosses of the mouse toy he gets bored and reverts to rubbing against me as if to say, "No, seriously, try harder." I pull out the laser toy and he puts about forty-five seconds of solid, All-ACC effort into catching it, then he gives up. "Look, you really need to do better than that." I then use my coveted opposable thumb to hold the brush while he rubs against it, rendering me unable to type, read, write or study in any way. The brush satisfies him for about ten minutes, but unless he decides it is time for one of his epic naps I can expect him to return for more attention.

That is LESTER. That is my blog post. If you have discovered any errors in my spelling or grammar or just in my syntax in general, know that it's because IIIIIIIIIIIIII'M DRUNK.

BEDTIME, SUCKAZ!

DORA turned one year old on Sunday.

DORA is the only cat whose birthday we can celebrate since she is the only one we got as a kitten. Her birthday is on Valentine's Day, meaning that in the coming years February 14 will be the day when I can directly measure my worth to ANGEL-ASS against DORA's. Celebration of our love for each other will compete with a celebration of DORA's birth. I expect they will be met with equal pomp, though I hope I will not be expected to take DORA out to dinner as well (tuna is expensive at restaurants).

It is time, then, to look back on the memories DORA has created in this first year in a segment I call, "I'll never forget that time..."

INFTT when DORA knocked my goddamn cup over when it was full of water.
INFTT when DORA knocked my other goddamn cup over when it was full of water.

INFTT when DORA sat on a pile of pillows that had fallen off the couch while ANGEL-ASS and I were upstairs. She spoke from her perch with a melodious voice befitting heavenly choirs:

"YEAAEEEEEEAAAAAAAAOOOOOWEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOEEEEEEEEAAAAAWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA."

We reacted quickly, assuming she was injured, but when we arrived at the top of the stairs she stared at us, clearly impatient with the fact that we had spent a full five minutes not paying attention to her.

She repeated,

"YEAAEEEEEEAAAAAAAAOOOOOWEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOEEEEEEEEAAAAAWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

This translates literally to, "PILLOWS!"

Now, we knew from her age and her corresponding level of cognitive development that this was a holophrase (a one-word phrase used by children in early language acquisition as a code for a much broader idea). Through careful explication and through the consultation of experts in child psychology we have determined this holophrase to mean, in no uncertain terms,

"Mother, father, I'm so glad you've come. It seems I have exhausted my capacity to play by myself and I require your attention. You may notice that I am sitting on pillows, which I feel will serve as an effective, though rudimentary, playing area (given their varied topography and gentle texture). It is in your interest to know that I am resolved in this sentiment and will be happy to vocalize it repeatedly until my needs are met. Descend, then, mother and father, from your current station and entertain me, for that is your purpose."

Perhaps we imagine her to be more eloquent than she really is.

All joking aside, DORA is truly our cat. We got her when she was only a few weeks old and we have watched like proud parents as she has grown up. Recently, ANGEL-ASS referred to DORA as her "prize pumpkin," since it is evident in the shine of her fur and her general energy level and spirit that she is remarkably healthy.

Hmm. I think I mixed antecedents there...I mean that DORA has nice fur. Not ANGEL-ASS. I'm sure ANGEL-ASS would have nice fur if she had fur. Are we clear now?

It's probably not entirely in the spirit of this blog to say that I truly love having DORA around and that I will miss her dearly when ANGEL-ASS moves to Raleigh this coming week.



OH!

ANGEL-ASS IS MOVING TO RALEIGH THIS COMING WEEK.

She got a job and she's relocating. Don't worry, she's not leaving me with all of the cats (although that would certainly be fit fodder for this blog). She's only leaving the one that shits on the floor every day. Just that one. The blog will continue, but I don't see there being as much to write about in the next few months.


LESTER has developed a bond with me and RACK-N-ROLL that cannot be denied. He sleeps in her room and he seems to gravitate towards us in general, so it is natural that he will be the one staying with us. Also, he is new and it would be too stressful for him to have to adapt to yet another new environment just as he completes his adjustment to our apartment.

He has overcome his initial nervousness and relations between him and the girls are cordial if not always diplomatic. The only remaining issue is that he refuses to use the litter box. I believe this is a carefully considered and conscious decision on his part, not just a behavioral issue. Putting myself in his shoes, I can see his discomfort. If I needed to go to the restroom and my only option was a room painted purple which I know is already in use by two girls, I would probably assume that it is a girl's bathroom. All that is missing is a changing station and a tampon dispenser (the latter of which would be decidedly unnecessary given the girls' lack of...er...you know). LESTER clearly needs a men's restroom, complete with graffiti, broken locks and $0.25 condoms (if only for show). He will get his bathroom and all will be made right in his life, and when he is reunited with the girl cats he will use a different litter box. In the meantime, however, we suppose that he will continue to relieve himself as he sees fit...in public...unabashedly...just like any self-respecting man.

A Challenge

Friends, we are in the midst of a grand experiment!

In days of old, standards for manhood were set by jousting. This phallic display was a test of bravery, pitting man against man at break-neck speeds to impress the ladies whose favors were tied to his ardently wielded lance. Hehe. Dirty.

Those days are gone. I have pawned my lance in expectation that jousting competitions will be few and far between. However, ANGEL-ASS has devised a new way of determining whether I am worthy of her affection. She has left me alone in the apartment and charged me with the care of three cats for 24 hours. I am to feed them, freshen their water, play with them and provide them with the same attention that their beloved ANGEL-ASS would.

THOSE, however, are not the challenges. The challenge is that I must, with a swift dexterity and with great care for the animal's comfort provide LESTER with antibiotics to sooth his acute feline dyspepsia (read: his puking and shitting everywhere). To do this I must, with the stealth of a field mouse, sneak up behind LESTER, wrench apart his jaw, force into his throat half a tablet of medicine and escape before he mauls my good Christian face off. I am even charged with purchasing Pepcid AC for him (YEAH, FURREAL). There is no work so noble as this, I do here submit.

I shall here publish my letter to said maid.

MY DEAREST AND MOST FAIR LADY ANGEL-ASS,

I ACCEPT YOUR CHALLENGE, MISTRESS, PROVIDED THAT YOU ARE OF NOBLE OR RESPECTABLE BIRTH! IS YOUR FATHER AT THE VERY LEAST A LANDOWNER AND DO YOU PROMISE A DOWRY? WHY SHOULD I NOT CHOOSE A WOMAN OF THE DOG PERSUASION TO BETTER MY CHANCES OF FAVOR, HOWEVER ANGELIC YOUR ASS PROVES TO BE? WHERE DO YOU STAND ON THE KING'S GREAT MATTER? SHOULD THAT LILY-LIVER'D M. LUTHER RAISE AN ARMY OF HERETICS WILL YOU REMAIN A SUBJECT OF THE ONE TRUE FAITH? SEND WORD WRITTEN IN YOUR OWN DELICATE HAND FORTHWITH!

MOST HUMBLY AND EXPECTANTLY YOURS,
MElvin ORtega THEodore CATSwick IX, 13th EARL OF SHAFTESBURY (look it up)

Cats 101: A Play in one Act

RACK-N-ROLL:

ANGEL-ASS, he's pooping! He's pooping in my bed! Ew now he's licking it!! Ahhhh no!

ME:

Is it pink?

RACK-N-ROLL:

Yes!

ANGEL-ASS:

That's his penis.

RACK-N-ROLL:

No it's coming from his butt!

ME:

I promise, that's his penis.

ANGEL-ASS:

It's retractable...that's how he cleans himself.

RACK-N-ROLL

Gross!

*fin*

STORYTIMESTORYTIMESTORYTIME

The television was at a decent volume, so I didn't hear the sound of our night changing. All had been going well with LESTER, our grey mancat, especially considering that he had just moved into an apartment with two girlcats who were only interested in doing dainty girlcat things (BOY do I know the feeling). ANGEL-ASS was in our bedroom feeding the voracious beast that is her eBay addiction...when it happened.

I. A sound

I only heard a second-hand description of the sound from ANGEL-ASS, but her description was more than adequate. I imagine a sound similar to the flatulent byte used by morning radio hosts (perhaps the very underbelly of entertainment) or to that emanating from KFC's lavatories. The sound, friends, was only the beginning.

"LESTER what have you DONE?? OH NOOOOOOOO!" -ANGEL-ASS

II. A sight

Well...we all know what poop looks like. I won't describe it. The location, however, was a key element in the overall experience. Our bathroom mat (Requiescat in pace) was decorated with palm trees, stitched beautifully into a soft white background. The "delivery," as I shall call it hereafter (since I'm already weary of typing "poop"), was placed most artfully at the canopy of one of the palm trees. At first glance this gave the viewer the impression that the delicately stitched trunk of the palm tree pattern was drawn to support the delivery. Had I no sense of smell, the delivery would have been commendable for its use of contrast, since I must admit that it made the negative space in the picture much more agreeable. I am no art critic, but still I cannot imagine any connoisseur of modern art taking offense.

"STOP staring at it and get me an wet rag, the bleach, a trash bag and a scented candle!" -ANGEL-ASS

III. A smell

It smelled like shit. Once we put the scented candle in the bathroom it smelled like shit and raspberries.

"How much were those bath mats we were looking at in WalMart?" -ANGEL-ASS

*fin*

Headlines:

LESTER went to the vet, where we found out that he is 12.8 pounds ("slightly overweight," just like his dad) and probably between five and seven years old (older than we originally thought).

MOTC Scale:

Today I introduce a weekly feature of this blog, in which I take one revealing quote from my girlfriend's mouth every week and rate it on the MOTC scale. The scale is from 1 to 10, with 10 being "Bitch is a crazy cat lady," five being "Boyfriend and cats are of equal value," and one being "My boyfriend means more to me than any animal."

QUOTE:

"I just want to move to Colorado and live with a bunch of animals and make cat toys and sell them on eBay!" -ANGEL-ASS

MOTC Rating: 7.4

We have a new cat...

...and his name is LESTER and he was declawed by his previous owner so he bats at things instead of attacking them and he doesn't know how to cover his poop in the litter box and sometimes to avoid that embarrassment he simply shits on the mat outside the litter box...and DORA doesn't like him for reasons other than the aforementioned because she's a little pussy but we know she'll warm up to him once she realizes that he's not stealing her awesome laserpointer toys...and it should be pointed out that SNOOZY is once again the picture of grace and diplomacy except for when LESTER forgets to bow deeply as he approaches her throne...and I know that having three cats makes ANGEL-ASS a cat lady and I know that I will have to take on some cat qualities if I hope to stay with her but I think that's a risk I'm willing to take especially if she gets this job at Enterprise that pays biggirlmoney because then she can be my sugamama and buy me drinks and Yankee hammers.

Now you know where I stand.

I am a man living with five roommates. I date one of them. Three of them are cats. One of the cats is male.

My girlfriend, who I will call ANGEL-ASS, is just out of college and she has been gaining a cat at a rate of one every six months since we began dating. Before dating her I had never lived with a cat. In fact, I had bad enough cat allergies to avoid them entirely. We moved in together after dating for about six months and after three weeks we had a cat. My allergies have subsided over the months, but even if they had not they would hardly have mattered to ANGEL-ASS.

My girlfriend's roommate, here dubbed RACK-N-ROLL, is still in school. She was not a cat person either until moving in with ANGEL-ASS. She has a special relationship with each of the cats based primarily around the fact that her room gets the sunshine during the day, making her bed the perfect warming zone.

SNOOZY is a grey tabby mix, our first cat. She is regal and unassuming and about as talkative as a cat can get. She was about a year old when we got her. She is tiny because she lost a litter at only six months of age, stunting her growth and resulting in her tragically adorable habit of licking every person she meets on the lips for as long as you can stand her scratchy tongue, as if every person she meets is one of her lost kittens.

DORA is a young tuxedo cat with half a milk-mustache and an affinity for doors. When she sees a door, she wants to be on the other side of it. When you open the door for her to slip through, she goes through it, turns around and glances at you as if to say, "Thanks, boss!" Naturally you close the door because you have done your duty (and because it's 3AM and you have work in the morning and you're going back to bed). DORA waits until you are back in bed under the covers and resting on the pillow (trying not to look at the clock). She patiently sits outside the door listening until she hears no more movement, and, satisfied that you have gotten comfortable, she begins to claw at the door from the other side. You can hear her pulling up the carpet under the door, and for ten seconds you can ignore it. However, no matter how hard you try, you cannot ignore her ensuing technique: the crescendoing howl she lets out when she realizes that she is being ignored. You will have to get up again and prop the door open so that it is no longer an obstacle for her. It is the only way to defeat her.

LESTER is our new grey mancat. He is twice the size of DORA and three times the size of SNOOZY. He is named after Detective Lester Freamon from The Wire because he looks exactly freakin' like him. It may take a while for him to develop a personality around here since he is still getting used to the fact that we are here to love him and give him a home. What we do know about him is that he purrs loudly when you get within two feet of him, and he talks softly to himself at night.

I am suddenly very aware that I am losing my grip on this situation. When a girl has two cats, she is a cat-lover. The first cat was brought home because she "can't imagine living without a cat for much longer." The second was brought home because, "Snoozy is so lonely when we're gone during the day, she need a companion!"

The third cat is a different story. Now I am in competition with the cats for the attention of my significant other. I am now having to rearrange my pillows at night so that one of the cats can sleep near our heads and I'm having to lay in just the perfect position so that one of the cats can sleep at our feet. I am not allowed to make any sudden movements or react to anything (not even SPORTS) at a volume above forty decibels for fear of being chastised for "scaring the cats." I am in love with ANGEL-ASS and I do not hate her cats (in fact often I love them just as much as any dog I've ever had), but it is hard to ignore the fact that a nexus is fast approaching.

I cannot live with four cats. Or five. Or twelve.

Someday ANGEL-ASS will have to make a decision to be a girlfriend...nay...a wife...and not a cat-lady. A day will come when she will have to walk into a Petco knowing with every ounce of her being that she will not be leaving with a cat, no matter how tragic the cat's story and no matter how longingly it looks into her eyes. She will have to decide that having a man in her life can be more fulfilling than being surrounded by furry creatures, and that the inconsistencies and transgressions of men do not make them inferior to the loyalties of animals.

A day is imminent when it will simply be me or the cats.