Stubbornness
I hate my sister's cat.
After working in a vet's office for some time in high school, I've met my fair share of animals who are assholes. There was the bird who hated women and I had to use oven mitts and a broom to get him back in his cage when he escaped to attack me. Or the 200 lb Boxer who growled at everyone. I still got him to let me take his blood. Or the feral cat who wouldn't stop hissing. I managed to give him a flea bath and remain scratch free.
But this cat. I fucking hate this cat.
He doesn't like me because for the first six weeks he lived with my family, he was masquerading as girl. I don't know how four members of my family failed to notice the two dangling things between his legs, but it's really not surprising if you know them either.
So I get home for spring break, and I'm minding my own business, reading the newspaper and this cat's like, ooh, the new girl! And he jumps up on the table and sticks his ass in my face because he's a total perv. Everyone else think he's cute, but no. He's a perv. Kittens can be perverts.
Instead of just swooping him up and getting him out of my way and my face, I held him in place and called Danielle over to point out the undeniable evidence that this is not a female cat.
"Yes, she is. The woman said so."
"Well, I've never seen a female cat with balls, Danielle."
And so, Tinsley became Fred.
And he hates me. He thinks I'm the only reason he got his balls chopped off.
But I'm sure when he went to the vet the next week to get shots and whatnot, they would have figured it out too.
Since then, it's been nasty. When I walk by, he hits my feet. With his claws out.
When I try to pet him, he moves just out of reach.
When I offer him treats as a peace offering, he snubs them. And then he walks on over to Erica or Danielle and does that purring, head/chin rub thing and they say "Oh, Nicole, why are you so mean to him? He's such a sweetheart."
I WILL EXPOSE YOU SOMEDAY, FRED.
Then yesterday, he knocked over my Coke. And sat in it. Because he's a jerk.
And I don't care about the soda on him, but it starts to get sticky and he's getting knotted fur and it's my baby sister's cat, blah, blah, blah.
So I give him a bath.
That fucker acted like I was going to cut off what's left of his manhood. There was screaming from both of us. Clawing at anything he could. Me yelling "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BREAK ME YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" and Danielle coming in to tell me that you can't call a cat a "motherfucker", especially not her "Fweddy".
Oh, but you can.
So I'm holding him down as best I could, proving to him that I am stronger and smarter and I'm winning so HA. He realizes that he's losing this battle of wills, so he hisses and growls but doesn't do much beyond that until he's good and lathered up. Then he does this bit of acrobatics that I can't describe because it all happened so fast, but somehow, I've got him by his two front paws, we're both on the floor, covered in shampoo suds, kicking and struggling to get the other to give in. So he bit me. Twice. On both hands. And that's just, like, a boundary I can't cross so I'm trying to figure out my next move while refusing to release his front paws despite the bites. And then he rears up on his back legs, and HE FUCKING PEES ON ME. Which was IT. It was that IT when your mom says "THAT'S IT!" and you're like "What's 'it'?" I KNOW WHAT THAT "IT" IS NOW.
I found strength I didn't know I had to get that overweight son of a bitch back in the sink BELLY UP and I shampooed and rinsed him again just to be mean.
So he's getting a bath every day for a week. He will not win this. And I'm putting a BIG PINK FUCKING BOW on him too. It's going to take more than blood and pee to get me to back down.
[edit]
I found out that you can't give cats a bath that often because it dries out their skin too much.
But the bow thing is still on.[/edit]
After working in a vet's office for some time in high school, I've met my fair share of animals who are assholes. There was the bird who hated women and I had to use oven mitts and a broom to get him back in his cage when he escaped to attack me. Or the 200 lb Boxer who growled at everyone. I still got him to let me take his blood. Or the feral cat who wouldn't stop hissing. I managed to give him a flea bath and remain scratch free.
But this cat. I fucking hate this cat.
He doesn't like me because for the first six weeks he lived with my family, he was masquerading as girl. I don't know how four members of my family failed to notice the two dangling things between his legs, but it's really not surprising if you know them either.
So I get home for spring break, and I'm minding my own business, reading the newspaper and this cat's like, ooh, the new girl! And he jumps up on the table and sticks his ass in my face because he's a total perv. Everyone else think he's cute, but no. He's a perv. Kittens can be perverts.
Instead of just swooping him up and getting him out of my way and my face, I held him in place and called Danielle over to point out the undeniable evidence that this is not a female cat.
"Yes, she is. The woman said so."
"Well, I've never seen a female cat with balls, Danielle."
And so, Tinsley became Fred.
And he hates me. He thinks I'm the only reason he got his balls chopped off.
But I'm sure when he went to the vet the next week to get shots and whatnot, they would have figured it out too.
Since then, it's been nasty. When I walk by, he hits my feet. With his claws out.
When I try to pet him, he moves just out of reach.
When I offer him treats as a peace offering, he snubs them. And then he walks on over to Erica or Danielle and does that purring, head/chin rub thing and they say "Oh, Nicole, why are you so mean to him? He's such a sweetheart."
I WILL EXPOSE YOU SOMEDAY, FRED.
Then yesterday, he knocked over my Coke. And sat in it. Because he's a jerk.
And I don't care about the soda on him, but it starts to get sticky and he's getting knotted fur and it's my baby sister's cat, blah, blah, blah.
So I give him a bath.
That fucker acted like I was going to cut off what's left of his manhood. There was screaming from both of us. Clawing at anything he could. Me yelling "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BREAK ME YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" and Danielle coming in to tell me that you can't call a cat a "motherfucker", especially not her "Fweddy".
Oh, but you can.
So I'm holding him down as best I could, proving to him that I am stronger and smarter and I'm winning so HA. He realizes that he's losing this battle of wills, so he hisses and growls but doesn't do much beyond that until he's good and lathered up. Then he does this bit of acrobatics that I can't describe because it all happened so fast, but somehow, I've got him by his two front paws, we're both on the floor, covered in shampoo suds, kicking and struggling to get the other to give in. So he bit me. Twice. On both hands. And that's just, like, a boundary I can't cross so I'm trying to figure out my next move while refusing to release his front paws despite the bites. And then he rears up on his back legs, and HE FUCKING PEES ON ME. Which was IT. It was that IT when your mom says "THAT'S IT!" and you're like "What's 'it'?" I KNOW WHAT THAT "IT" IS NOW.
I found strength I didn't know I had to get that overweight son of a bitch back in the sink BELLY UP and I shampooed and rinsed him again just to be mean.
So he's getting a bath every day for a week. He will not win this. And I'm putting a BIG PINK FUCKING BOW on him too. It's going to take more than blood and pee to get me to back down.
[edit]
I found out that you can't give cats a bath that often because it dries out their skin too much.
But the bow thing is still on.[/edit]