Thursday, February 25, 2010
Antennae . . .
Insects have them on their heads. Ngaio has wiskers in the normal places, but also sprouting out of random spots on her front legs. I can only assume this is how she communicates with the evil forces lurking beneath the ground. They vibrate and tremor and tell her the next thing she should do in her quest to become evil overlord of my apartment.
Another day . . .
another half-consumed cellphone accessory. I wonder when and where it will make its reappearance? Ngaio has also discovered that butter is delicious, and gives her the runs. Oh, the joy to follow . . .
Monday, February 1, 2010
Evil in other places
This is unrelated to Ngaio, but I'm fairly sure thatthe office two floors below mine is inhabited by gangsters. I hear random screams and loud, angry, male voices at least once a week. They're hiding out and pretending to be a designer of clothes for older women with too much disposable income and too little taste.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Scratch that
Her demonic majesty is not pleased with my meger human-manufacture scratching aids. I have searched the land to find something that would persuad her to sometimes sheath her claws. If she's not using them to draw blood or destroy my valued posessions, it's not worth her time.
It is particularly not worth her time if I buy her a nice, attractive scratching post. Anything manufactured by silly humans is automatically rejected. Be it cardboard, sisal, carpet, or the dreams of innocent children woven into skeins of softest silk by Tom Tit Tot himself, anything I buy her will sit around gathering dust.
What does she prefer for scratching?
a) Human hands. Oh, she pretends to be sweet and cute and acts like she just wants to play. First she gives you a soft, gentle tap with her tiny little paw. Then, a little bit harder, just to see if you're paying attention. If you're not, she moves directly into attack mode and the little talons come out. Be prepared to sacrifice some blood. It's the only thing that will appease her.
b) Wallpaper. Fortunately, she hasn't yet realized that she can peel it off herself. Instead, she meows, climbs up my back, and wildly scrambles for the tiny piece in the corner under the cabinet that has started to come loose.
c) My sofa/spare bed. For the first time, I wish I'd gone with the cheapo option. But nooooooooo ~ I had to be all fancy and buy something that wouldn't leave all my guests with sore bums and restless nights. Me and my stupid desire for quality just gave Ngaio something large and expensive to concentrate on. Her favorite trick is to wedge herself between the wall and the side of the mattress, and scoot her way around by using her claws. When she's bored, she lies on her back and tries to see how many layers she can scratch through before she emerges through the cushioning.
d) My curtains. Since my room doesn't have a proper door, I have curtains to give myself a little privacy. Unfortunately, custom curtains = custom climbing post. I try to persuade myself that the pattern of ribbing and holes from the clawmarks is artistic, but I fail every time and just feel depressed.
e) My pillow. Specifically, the nice buckwheat pillow with the thick, embroidered pillow case. It is not embroidered anymore. Thread is everywhere, every day.
Everything the vet recommended to encourage scratching in appropriate places and discourage it in the wrong ones has failed. Actually, I suspect she's attracted by all the things that are supposed to send her packing. She likes the flavor of all the different repellant sprays. She eats lemons. Tin foil is a marvelous toy, and double sided tape the most entertaining thing in the world. Just yesterday, I watched her delicately grab a corner of it off the sofa and peel the strip right off, ball it up, and start looking for a place to hide it (preferably someplace I won't see, and will step on in the middle of the night.) I give up. The world is her scratching post.
It is particularly not worth her time if I buy her a nice, attractive scratching post. Anything manufactured by silly humans is automatically rejected. Be it cardboard, sisal, carpet, or the dreams of innocent children woven into skeins of softest silk by Tom Tit Tot himself, anything I buy her will sit around gathering dust.
What does she prefer for scratching?
a) Human hands. Oh, she pretends to be sweet and cute and acts like she just wants to play. First she gives you a soft, gentle tap with her tiny little paw. Then, a little bit harder, just to see if you're paying attention. If you're not, she moves directly into attack mode and the little talons come out. Be prepared to sacrifice some blood. It's the only thing that will appease her.
b) Wallpaper. Fortunately, she hasn't yet realized that she can peel it off herself. Instead, she meows, climbs up my back, and wildly scrambles for the tiny piece in the corner under the cabinet that has started to come loose.
c) My sofa/spare bed. For the first time, I wish I'd gone with the cheapo option. But nooooooooo ~ I had to be all fancy and buy something that wouldn't leave all my guests with sore bums and restless nights. Me and my stupid desire for quality just gave Ngaio something large and expensive to concentrate on. Her favorite trick is to wedge herself between the wall and the side of the mattress, and scoot her way around by using her claws. When she's bored, she lies on her back and tries to see how many layers she can scratch through before she emerges through the cushioning.
d) My curtains. Since my room doesn't have a proper door, I have curtains to give myself a little privacy. Unfortunately, custom curtains = custom climbing post. I try to persuade myself that the pattern of ribbing and holes from the clawmarks is artistic, but I fail every time and just feel depressed.
e) My pillow. Specifically, the nice buckwheat pillow with the thick, embroidered pillow case. It is not embroidered anymore. Thread is everywhere, every day.
Everything the vet recommended to encourage scratching in appropriate places and discourage it in the wrong ones has failed. Actually, I suspect she's attracted by all the things that are supposed to send her packing. She likes the flavor of all the different repellant sprays. She eats lemons. Tin foil is a marvelous toy, and double sided tape the most entertaining thing in the world. Just yesterday, I watched her delicately grab a corner of it off the sofa and peel the strip right off, ball it up, and start looking for a place to hide it (preferably someplace I won't see, and will step on in the middle of the night.) I give up. The world is her scratching post.
They didn't believe me . . .
but the proof is in the pudding. Or, rather, in the puddle of kitty vomit.
Last week I had a strange experience. I woke up in the small wee hours of the morning to a strange sound. It was sort of a "purr, nom, nom, purr, gag!" sound. It was coming from my nightstand.
It was coming from Ngaio, who was making a snack out of my cellphone accessory.
Nobody I told this to believed me. Everybody said that she probably just carried it off and hid it somewhere, under a dresser or in the back of the closet. But I knew the disturbing truth; my cat is fueled by snakes and snails and puppy dog tails and plastic and metal and non-organic substances not meant for kitty consumption. Oh, just to be sure, I searched all over the house. I checked under the yo and in the pillow cases and behind the furniture. I found where she'd ripped apart her feather toy, leaving everything nearby stained with cheap dye. I discovered the spot on the wallpaper she's been using for a scratching post (since she blatantly rejected the very nice one I bought for her in favor of my good buckwheat pillow, curtains, and sofa.) But there was no cellphone accessory anywhere.
Well, I finally found it ~ in the form of half-digested puddles of barely identifiable goo in the middle of my living room. She had eaten my cell phone accessory all right, and held it in her gut for nearly a week as she anticipated just the right moment to upchuck it all over the newly cleaned floor. She had also eaten a rubber band and a piece of chain from the necklace. But the weird thing is, I'm not missing any jewelry and I don't keep rubber bands in the house (ironically because I was afraid she'd eat them.) Is her gut the end point of some intergalactic wormhole? Does she have evil powers that allow her to slip into other apartments and eat their stuff? Can she conjure it out of nowhere?
Last week I had a strange experience. I woke up in the small wee hours of the morning to a strange sound. It was sort of a "purr, nom, nom, purr, gag!" sound. It was coming from my nightstand.
It was coming from Ngaio, who was making a snack out of my cellphone accessory.
Nobody I told this to believed me. Everybody said that she probably just carried it off and hid it somewhere, under a dresser or in the back of the closet. But I knew the disturbing truth; my cat is fueled by snakes and snails and puppy dog tails and plastic and metal and non-organic substances not meant for kitty consumption. Oh, just to be sure, I searched all over the house. I checked under the yo and in the pillow cases and behind the furniture. I found where she'd ripped apart her feather toy, leaving everything nearby stained with cheap dye. I discovered the spot on the wallpaper she's been using for a scratching post (since she blatantly rejected the very nice one I bought for her in favor of my good buckwheat pillow, curtains, and sofa.) But there was no cellphone accessory anywhere.
Well, I finally found it ~ in the form of half-digested puddles of barely identifiable goo in the middle of my living room. She had eaten my cell phone accessory all right, and held it in her gut for nearly a week as she anticipated just the right moment to upchuck it all over the newly cleaned floor. She had also eaten a rubber band and a piece of chain from the necklace. But the weird thing is, I'm not missing any jewelry and I don't keep rubber bands in the house (ironically because I was afraid she'd eat them.) Is her gut the end point of some intergalactic wormhole? Does she have evil powers that allow her to slip into other apartments and eat their stuff? Can she conjure it out of nowhere?
Monday, January 25, 2010
Her Horrific History
Ngaio was born in September of 2009, one of a large litter of Russian Blue kittens. There was nothing in particular to distinguish her from her brothers and sisters. Like them, she was a small, grey mewling thing with big, innocent, green eyes. But unlike the others, who were truly innocent, Ngaio's eyes were back-lit by the hottest fires of hell. She bided her time, crawling around and looking cute, until one day . . .
A man was looking to delight girlfriend with a special gift. He cleverly realized that a kitten would not only make his girlfriend happy, but also give him all the joys of having a pet without having to feed and clean up after it. It was an ideal plan, but also foolish, for he unwittingly let loose the powers of evil into my apartment. Now she reigns over my little space with a merciless paw in iron softpaws.
A man was looking to delight girlfriend with a special gift. He cleverly realized that a kitten would not only make his girlfriend happy, but also give him all the joys of having a pet without having to feed and clean up after it. It was an ideal plan, but also foolish, for he unwittingly let loose the powers of evil into my apartment. Now she reigns over my little space with a merciless paw in iron softpaws.
Beware!
Ngaio is my cat. But she is no mere housecat - oh no! Ngaio is demon spawn, leaving a wake of destruction and terror wherever she goes. You can see the evil in her eyes, sense it in her purr, and feel it in the depths of your quaking soul.
This blog is to chronicle my survival of her reign of terror . . .
assuming I live through it all.
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