I Crap In a Box

I'm Maddie, a fabulous foul-mouthed Calico from Washington, D.C. I sleep, whine and poop a lot. Swearing like a sailor and vomiting like a supermodel round out my typical day. Tormenting my sister also warms my heart!

Tuesday, April 29, 2003

Woozy puss

Mommy took me to the vet today, and the visit itself was less painful than the drive with her. ;)

Mommy and the vet were laughing and cracking jokes. I liked the vet. Her name was Tracy. Her assistant's name was also Tracy. The assistant immediately shoved a thermometer up my ass when I came out of my little cage, so I was mad but she petted me and told me how pretty I am, so she was cool in my book after that.

Unlike my last vet, when they went to weigh me, they said they were certain I was all fur. But then I got off the scale and they said, nope, I'm all cat. When they told Mommy that 18.6 pounds is a little bit much for a dainty little puss like me, Mommy told them that I only move one square foot a day, so I get no exercise. They laughed and said that foot must be to the food dish, and Mommy said that I'd much rather prefer having my food come to me. Bitch!

Mommy had a long talk with the Tracys, and they recommended that if a new cat comes into the house, that we be kept apart for 10 days. They said a new cat should be locked away in a room where I can't go, and that we'd get to sniff each other under the door and at least know that another cat is present. They highly recommended that we not interact puss-to-puss for those 10 days, or we might not get along as well as we could if we have time to get used to the idea of each other first.

You're not hearing any complaints from me on that one!

What I will complain about, though, is the battery of tests and vaccinations that they decided I should have. And Mommy told them to do whatever and then some. Heh. She regretted it when she got the bill -- so much for using that tax return for what she really wanted to use it for! And then, they told me I have to go back in three weeks for booster shots! If I hadn't gotten all these stupid shots that I didn't need, the bill would have been $100 less, and Mommy's still steaming over it, so I will leave her alone for a little while. Besides, these meds are making me reeeaaaaalllllyyy sleepy, so I am going to retire to my lil kitty sofa and snooze for an hour or 10.

Monday, April 28, 2003

A sister?

Aunt Tiff keeps yapping about some girl cat named Romeo from Aunt Tom's neighborhood whom she wants to adopt. Bitch!

What the fuck is up with a girl being named Romeo? Is she a dyke kitty? Because I am not a lesbian kitty -- rather, I am fairly ambivalent toward anything that is not something upon which to sleep or feast or poop.

Mommy is trying to prepare me for this potential ordeal, but I don't like it. Not one bit. Mommy wouldn't even let me live with her until my claws had been removed and my coochie had been ripped out! And what's worse -- as if that were possible -- Mommy says she is going to have to take me to the vet to get me shot. What the fuck is up with that? She said that if we bring in a kitty who lives outside, I might be susceptible to feral kitty germs, so she wants to make sure I'm healthier than ever. Christ! That means I have to ride in the car and also see a doctor. Gaaak!!!

My old vet always used to yell at Mommy because he said I was fat. Motherfucker! He was a scrawny little fellow, and what he would do is weigh himself on the kitty scale, then get off and get back on with me in his arms, so he could tell how much I weigh. Mommy used to argue with him that my girth is mostly fur ("I'm not fat! I'm big boned!" -- Eric Cartman) She stopped taking me to him because it was hard for her to lift me into the car all the time (this was before we had our own car -- Grandma used to have to drive us). But Grandma is allergic to my abundance of fur, so she'd sneeze during the whole ride there. Oh, the agony.

Let me just establish, for any pussy who thinks he or she can enter my lair, that I am the Alpha Bitch. Do NOT mess with my food, my sofa, my litter or anything else in the house. Because it's mine, all mine!!! Even your room, Auntie Tiff, that you do not let me into, is mine. I just choose not to use that space because I do not like getting a foot up my ass every time I make it past the doorway.

*sigh* Perhaps I should get my own apartment, so no one will bother me and I can sleep peacefully. Or maybe Mommy will let me hide in her closet again. If she would just move my litterbox, food dish and water fountain in there, I'd have it made! Mommy, are you taking notes?

Oh holy motherfucking shit! I heard Mommy on the phone with the vet -- apparently I am going to get shot at 5 p.m. tomorrow! Oh, the humanity!!!

Sunday, April 20, 2003

Ode to sleep

"I'll get up in a bit
My head it feels like shit."

Hear this and more when you listen to The Sleepy Kitten Song.

Tuesday, April 15, 2003

Not funny at ALL!

Uncle Jimmy sent Mommy this link with photos of kitties in wigs and hats and shit. Look what they do to torture these poor felines:

So. Very. Wrong. Let's hope Mommy isn't inspired by the bunny ears or the lamb getup for Easter this weekend! *keeps paws crossed*

Thursday, April 10, 2003

Jesus am I cute


Mommy and Aunt Tiff won't let me drink from the bathroom sink anymore. Bitches! Since Grandma gave me a water fountain for my 7th birthday last week, they are adamantly refusing to turn on the faucet for me, no matter how much I howl and bitch. And this morning, Mommy pulled me away from the sink three times in a row, each time depositing me at the foot of my lil fountain, next to my empty food dish. Three times! I kept getting away from her and running back to the bathroom, in hopes that she would get tired of chasing me. But she didn't -- she can move pretty quickly at 6 a.m.!

Anyway, I'm pissed. Mommy keeps holding my paws under the stream of my fountain, and she even went so far as to dunk my nose in the cool, bubbling water for a second. If I had claws, I'd'a killed her with them, I promise you! I am not acclimated to the fountain yet, and as it is still chilly here in Northern Virginia, I'm fine with room-temperature tap water for now. I promise, I'll grow to love the fountain, but god damn it, give me back my faucet!!!

Friday, April 04, 2003

Backseat bitching

Mommy dragged me all over hell and hades to get me to and from Pittsburgh to see my Grandma and my Grandpa. God damn it to hell.

Mommy disappeared from the house a lot -- she was out catching up with friends and seeing boys. Skanky ho! I was very lonely without her. But Grandma kept me well fed and well entertained. I turned 7 years old on April 3, and Grandma bought me tons of presents, including a water fountain just for me! Apparently everyone is sick of high water bills because I insist on drinking only from the bathroom faucets. Bah. Now, if Mommy could just get her shit together and put together my fountain, I might forgive her for keeping me burritoed (or Bonsaied) into my lil cage for so many hours!