Why I can’t have nice Things

One thing that’s becoming obvious is that the cats are very aptly named. Somehow I manage to do this no matter what happens. That or the cat earns its name early on, as the late, much-missed Bugger managed to do.

Her Royal Highness, Princess Buttercup is very much royalty and the queen of all she surveys. Partly this is her being Siamese, but a lot of it is her being her. She likes to park herself somewhere she’ll be nicely framed by whatever she’s sitting on and look regal.

Well, mostly.

Midnight is black. And fluffy. And every bit the Basement Kitteh he looks like. He likes to lurk in dark corners and pounce from cover. Unless he’s in a relaxed mood, then he’ll curl up in the bathroom basin and refuse to move. He’s spent all day there, which has driven me to the kitchen to wash my hands after the necessary loo visits.

Midnight in the bathroom basin

Of course, he’s also the one who’s convinced that the only proper time to be petted is when I’m on the loo, at which point he’ll usually come running and insist I give him proper ear scritches and his preferred version of tummy rubs (which involves me curling my hand around his body to rub his belly while he leans into my arm – but heaven forbid I attempt to pick him up. That’s very much a No No).

Then there’s the Dread Kitty Westley. Who, yes, got his name because we already have Princess Buttercup. At that point he wasn’t much of a Dread Kitty – we were worried we were going to have the meek, mild Farm Boy. Boy were we wrong… We most definitely got a Dread Kitty. Who has managed to – so far – shred one lightweight blind, break two of the blinds that do the fancy fold up thing when you raise them (Roman shades, I think – they’re fabric with rods attached to the back that are drawn together by rings which are not in any way capable of holding up 10 pounds of kitteh playing kill with the ties), lose the mechanical pencil I use to take notes for work (in the 30 seconds it took me to go to the kitchen and fill up my water bottle and return no less – I’ve been looking for the bloody thing for days and haven’t found it yet), break my cordless mouse, pop the tab key off my work laptop so comprehensively it took me several hours of research plus a couple of hours of work to put the damn thing back together, turn off the work laptop mid-work so many times I had to get myself a stand and install a second keyboard – which has been knocked off the desk several times, although at least he hasn’t shut the thing off since I got it…

Westley in the way

You get the idea. Of course, he also likes to lie on the keyboard which results in kitteh typing and bizarre reconfiguring of the computer depending on what shortcuts he’s managed to trigger this time. He is most definitely a Dread Kitty.

All of this comes down to a thinly disguised reason to indulge in some cat photos. After all, if the little imps insist on getting into everything, they’re going to have to live with their antics and images being broadcast to anyone who wants to read about them. And yes, that is my work laptop and its keyboard Westley is in the way of.

22 thoughts on “Why I can’t have nice Things

  1. *looks across the room* I’d offer to trade you my pair of gingers– the 8 year old and the 2 year old, you decide which is a cat– but you might take me up on it.

    They’re currently balanced on a table and a glass shelf…no wonder I’m getting white hair….

    1. Heh. Given the Westley dangling off the screen – what I’d like to do to the idiot who decided to have windows with the screen on the _inside_ does not bear repeating – I don’t think you’d be getting a bargain.

      1. The girls’ room had lovely, thick, metal screens on the inside, so you can crank the windows out.



        1. The screens are not thick metal, but otherwise that’s exactly what we’ve got. We don’t have budget to replace them. EVERY other window in the house is double hung with normal external screens.

        2. Hardware cloth. Heavy steel mesh with 3/8″ or 1/2″ squares, screwed to the inside of the window frame, or to a secondary frame that fits into the window frame, and with enough space between it and the normal window screen that cat claws can’t reach.

  2. Me: [yawning] Athena Cat got me up at 2330, 0300, 0500, and 0545, sixty seconds before the alarm went off.
    DadRed: Why didn’t you just carry her off the bed and shut the door?
    Me: Because she’s a cat.

    1. Oh, no. Closed doors would mean cats banging on the door to get let in. Then an hour later, banging on the door to get let out. Rinse and repeat. All night.

      Been there. Closed doors are Not Allowed in our house.

  3. There is a reason Nicki nicknamed my younger cat–whose real name is “Brat” for obvious reasons–“Dickface”. It’s not just because he looks like he has one on his fact but because he acts like one most of the time. That is also why he is an indoor cat. If he was outdoors, he is enough of a dick that he’d be fighting every other cat in the neighborhood and the pit bull next door. He’d probably win but I don’t have the cash to pay the ensuring vet bills.

      1. Yeah. Did that with another cat years ago who thought he ruled the neighborhood. He simply would not be an indoors cat. Managed to slip out every time a door or window opened, no matter how careful we were. Could come back bloodied but triumphant–at least that was his story and was sticking to it. By the time he died, his face was scarred, he limped and one ear was torn in half. He also was the father of half the kittens in the neighborhood before he became our cat and we fixed him.

        1. He undoubtedly thought that you broke him. And probably tried to father some more kittens despite that.

          1. Trust me, he did. He drove our poor female cat crazy–and she was fixed. Of course, he drove us crazy, screaming to go out every time one of the females in the neighborhood went into heat.

  4. — Midnight in the bathroom basin —

    Hmmm…it’s not as evocative as Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, but just now Hollywood is low on fresh ideas. Some daring producer might option it! (:-)

    1. And what they’d produce would be easily mistaken for fertilizer, but would poison your garden.

    1. One of my anthro professors won an IgNobel for demonstrating why pregnant women don’t fall over.

    1. I hear you. We’d only planned on one cat, but Westley and Midnight were a package deal.

  5. We’re cat sitting two. A friend moved to Hawaii, then governor sealed off the island. So, we’re stuck with them indefinitely. Ella is a cute no-longer-kitten, but Pavarotti is incredibly annoying – loud and always wants attention. Of course, they don’t get along with our cats so we lock them in the basement every night to avoid the oh-dark-hundred cat fights.
    The inside screens are OK until a bug gets against one. THEN the cats tear it to pieces trying to catch the bug.

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