Cat Diaries

So, my new flatmate and I have two cats. To protect the innocent, our names are "Darren" and "Fizz" (the felines' names are "Pickles" and "Cow Pies." "Wammy" and "Yogi" named them, not us). Neither Fizz or I really want them, but we have them, so obviously a small part of us is choosing to keep the cats. For the time being. I suspect we are growing to love them, however much we über resent their presence in our boiler room (what?! it's not like we keep them locked in there or anything; they can roam the kitchen and bathroom all they like).

Of all the shitty flats in NYC we could have signed a lease on, we found a haven in Queens with a backyard. Pickles and Cow Pies have never seen a backyard; I don't know as they've ever felt the earth between their paws. They certainly don't act like it. When we first started letting them out, Pickles would slink around the yard doing her best impersonation of a cat who has never seen the outside world, while Cow Pies would nonchalantly hang out and eat the plants. At first, Fizz and I were concerned that Cow Pies might get sick from eating the plants; then we thought the plants were actually poison ivey and stopped worrying as much- it would mostly likely be a quick death (death by poison- file that under "natural causes," right?). Now, Pickles has taken to eating the plants, too. (Two down! Can we get a dog now?) She is still skittish, but less so than before. I am thrilled to learn of Cow Pies' one redeeming quality- she is not afraid of the outdoors. (Now if only she didn't have those horrible dreads in her fur which make her look mange-ridden. Sick.) Tonight she even wandered over into the Russophobe's backyard and near an open window into her basement. Much as we would love to be rid of the cat, we did all we could to coerce her back into our yard, though now we've discovered a whole new problem with the cats- keeping them contained. (To be honest, Fizz is more concerned with this than I, though I feign concern to humour her.)

While making dinner tonight, we let the creatures out back. We went upstairs, forgot all about them for three hours and, in the interim, the wind closed the screen door, locking them outside. We had left them outside unattended for three hours outside and they didn't whine a bit! Or perhaps they did, though we couldn't hear a peep over the roar of Monday Night Football. We have no idea what they did out there for three hours and, really, we don't want to know. We're just glad they weren't in Our Space.

Quirks about the cats:

• Pickles finds security in bathtubs. Don't ask why- aren't normal cats supposed hate water?
• Cow Pies doesn't like her ass or tail abutted, adjoined, bordered, brushed, butted on, caressed, contacted, dabbed, examined, felt, felt up, fingered, fondled, frisked, grazed, groped, handled, hit, impinged upon, inspected, kissed, licked, lined, manipulated, marched, massaged, neighbored, osculated, palmed, palpated, pet, pawed, percussed, probed, pushed, rubbed, scrutinized, sipped, smoothed, struck, stroked, sucked, swept, tagged, tapped, tasted, thumbed, or tickled. You've been warned.
• Both cats lick plants (for however long we allow them).
• As a kitten, Cow Pies had a traumatic experience being stuck inside a refridgerator for hours and now that you know it, don't bring it up in front of her- she gets pissy about it.
• Pickles has symmetric freckles in the corners of her eyes which often disappear for days on end before returning. This is still a mystery to us.

Oh, yeah. And today I went out to Manhattan (and down the Coney Island). I've decided that NYC is just a small town with a big city name.