Rant Against the Cat

When my husband and I moved in together, we got a cat.  Our cats were our first practice for children.  They were mostly self-cleaning, pooped in a box, independent and relatively low maintenance.  They prepared us for the responsibility of a dog who in turn prepared us for kids.   Now, with two kids, our dog is still a member of our family.  She sleeps on our bed, she comes along on family vacations, we take her on Starbucks dates in our car.   Our cats, however, have become the roommates who live downstairs.

And here’s why…  Cats are vengeful creatures.  If I forget to feed the dog breakfast she looks at me with sorrowful eyes, follows me around the house and rests her head pitifully on my knee.  I wonder what’s wrong, realize my transgression and quickly remedy the situation.  I feel bad, but she instantly forgives me and cuddles up next to me on the couch.

If I forget to feed the cats, they make me pay.

Last week I ran out of cat food.  I planned to go to the pet store in the afternoon immediately after my son woke up from his nap.  Yes, I felt bad, but I also knew that the cats would live and I would give them water in the meantime.  The cats made it obvious they were not a fan of this plan.

I had just lay down with my son on the guest room bed.  My dog had hopped up and cuddled against my legs.  Dude was blissfully drifting off for his afternoon nap.  All of a sudden, I hear the rustle of a plastic bag near the foot of the bed.

My dog lifts her head to look back at me, as if to say she feels my pain.

Rustle. Rustle. Rustle.

I grab a pillow and chuck it across the room.  The cat pauses and then scurries from the bedroom.  Dude stirs a little, but crisis avoided. I think.  I lay my head back on the pillow and exhale a sigh of relief.

Rustle.  Rustle.

The cat was back and wouldn’t give up on the bag.  “Shh..KOBA.. Get out,” I hiss.  Ha!  Telling a cat to “get out.”  What was I thinking?  He’s not a dog.  He has no idea what I’m saying, and if he did, he wouldn’t care because HE’S A CAT.  I silently give my dog permission to eat him.

The rustling suddenly stops and the cat hops up onto the bed.  He saunters over and stops next to sleeping Dude.  Uh-oh, I think, what torture does my cat have planned next?  The cat proceeds to head-butt Dude in the back.  “Go.  Away,” I whisper as I flick my wrist to shoo him.  He doesn’t take my hint and gives Dude one more head butt.  “Scram,” I say as I push the cat away.

The cat jumps off the bed.  Sigh.  I lie back down,  Dude is still asleep, miraculously. My heart hammers in my chest.  That cat is determined to wake up this baby in his quest for food.  I know this isn’t over.

I’m right.  The cat is back on the bed.  Now, he goes over to the dog and starts nuzzling her chest.  Really?  You’re a 13-pound cat and Lily is a 65-pound dog.  Lily looks at me imploringly, as if proving that she is innocent and she is not touching the cat.  Koba starts sniffing Lily’s face.  Lily remains stone still, staring at me. Dude is still sleeping peacefully at my side.  Suddenly, Koba shoves his ENTIRE FACE in Lily’s ear.  Lily jumps up, startled, and backs over Dude with her hind legs. Dude’s face scrunches up and he opens his mouth.

My baby’s scream fills the room.  I quickly pick him up and soothe him. Once he stops crying, I try to nurse him back to sleep.  After a few seconds, his eyes fly open and with a quick flip he is now sitting upright.  This nap is not happening.

Point taken.  I scoop up Dude, grab my keys and venture out to buy the cat food.

Stupid cat.

JoAnn Crohn

CEO/Founder at No Guilt Mom
JoAnn Crohn, M. Ed is a parenting educator and life coach who helps moms feel confident in raising empowered, self-sufficient kid while pursuing their own goals & passions.

She’s an accomplished writer, author, podcast host of the No Guilt Mom podcast, and speaker who appears in national media. Work with her personally in Balance VIP

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