Makes Me Happy

So... There has been quite a bit going on in the life of Emily besides school lately. Apparently both of my animals have gone insane with very expensive health problems and I had no idea until everything exploded in a mess of stress and animal problems that needed to be solved IMMEDIATELY.

That said, Laney was eventually diagnosed with feline idiopathic cystitis. This literally means that Laney has an inflammation of her urinary tract/bladder of unknown origin. So she's feeling bad and peeing inappropriately (which is AWFUL just in case you've never smelled cat pee in your life) and we're not sure why.

The veterinarians kept asking me if I had any major upheaval in my life lately. Anything that would stress my cat out? Anything at all? I could think of nothing. The vet mentioned that even something as minor as moving furniture so that the cat could no longer see out the window could be a cause. Because the cat could be stressed, and that is what is manifesting itself into a bladder infection.

I could think of nothing at the vet's office. Then I went home and had the sudden memory that I had moved my bookcase away from the window and over to the opposite wall so that A) I could fit a new piece of furniture in my house and B) I would no longer run into my bookcase when I scooted my chair too far back from my desk. Both good reasons, but the end result was that Laney could no longer see out the windows.

So I did what any self-respecting, independent, thirty-something girl would do. I called my father and asked him to build a window seat for my cat. He did, it was shipped, I was grateful, and the cat is no longer peeing inappropriately.

There was a little bit of uncertainty about whether or not the cat would use the new window seat. Cats are finicky in case you didn't know. But the first day after the new seat was installed, I drove home from school and saw the cat in the window. WOOO HOOOO!!



So now I run my chair into a cat window seat when I scoot too far back from my desk. I think the cat still rules all.

Will Clean for WiFi

Other than not having access to the internet at my new home (sniff) I'm all settled in. I mean, sure, there are still pictures (and a wine rack) to hang, and I have to do a good pass through with the vacuum, but otherwise, all moved in. And everything is roses.

A couple of things to mention.

Apparently Indianapolis is a big city. A big city that has its own channels. Like an ABC affiliate, and NBC affiliate, etc. So if a girl doesn't have cable, but has an antenna, she can still see the shows that she loves on network TV. But, um, in Lafayette Indiana, there is no such luxury. Which means that if a girl doesn't want to pay for cable, she's gonna be watching a lot of TV online (and a lot of DVDs during the summer.)

Can you imagine me with no internet and no TV? Also, seriously, if I'm your friend on Facebook and you post TV show spoilers, I will unfriend you. Immediately. No questions asked. You have been warned.

I'm currently camped out in the living room of my good friend Ann. She is generously sharing her WiFi with me. So I can get my fill of Facebook, blogs, online celebrity gossip. You know, the important stuff in life.

And some schoolwork.

Casey is sick and tired of new people and new places. She would like it very much if we could return to Indianapolis, please. We visited last night, and when she got out of the car in her old front yard, she didn't even try to run in the door. She just stood in the front yard with her tail wagging slowly from side to side. It broke my heart. She's just now gotten to the point where she will kennel in the new house without complaint and without freaking out a la Tyson. I think she's been the most difficult part of this move. It's like an unfiltered physical manifestation of all of my sadness and anxiety about leaving the city I've called home for the last 15 years.

I just hope she adjusts soon.

The boy is having similar adjustment issues. I think we've spoken on the phone more since I left town (four days ago) than we have during the entire time we've been dating. Of course, I would be lying if I didn't say that I missed him too. A lot.

I miss everything in Indianapolis. I think I need classes to start to keep me busy.

The cat is having no such issues. Laney loves the new house. She loves the windows and the sunshine, and the new rooms and closets to explore. She's gotten into the habit of pawing (clawing) open my closet door in the mornings to wake me up and make me feed her. Yesterday I closed the closet door after my breakfast and later on that evening I heard a very polite pawing sound coming from somewhere. I opened the closet and Laney walked out and thanked me for letting her out, oh and could she have some food now please? Today I found out that she has chosen inside my closet on top of my plastic drawers and just under the clothes as her place of choice to nap. Great. I'll never be without cat hair on my clothes now.

At least I'll spend all of my time around people who will probably understand.

Listening Skillz

I have to move again. I would say I'm not looking forward to it because I don't like change, but I'm actually split right down the middle. This move is symbolic of SO MANY life changes coming up that I am equally terrified and elated to make this move. If you add in that the new house is just like the one I'm in now - shabby chic - without the "shabby" and maybe it's 51% elated and 49% terrified.

There are some hurdles to get through first, though. Some readers of this blog have been around since the boy and I lived together so they remember the days when this blog was funny. HAVE I GOT NEWS FOR THEM!

When I found my tiny house in my new city, I had the following telephone conversation with the boy on May 2nd:

E: Guess what?
B: What?
E: I found a house in Lafayette!
B: Really? That's great news!
E: I know, right? I haven't seen it yet. I'll go see it on May 14th. If it looks as good as the pictures and the neighborhood is nice, I'll definitely snatch it up. The rent is only $5 more per month than what I'm paying now, can you believe it?
B: Awesome.

In retrospect, I'm pretty sure the boy stopped listening after I said "I found a house in Lafayette." Because he put in his two month notice at his apartment complex that day. Which means he has to be out of his apartment on July 1st.

Did I mention that the boy is taking over the lease for my current house? Ah. Well, he is. Which is helpful because I can leave some stuff in the basement, or move it slowly over the course of three months instead of worrying about moving everything in one day. Nice, right?

Oh, and when I went to see the house on May 14th (it was indeed as adorable as the pictures) I found out that it wasn't availabe until August 1st. Which is perfect for my school schedule. So I agreed to this move in date, signed necessary papers, and put down my deposit.

Because I didn't know that the boy had put in his two months notice on May 2nd.

That tidbit of information was shared with me on the ride back to Lafayette.

Oh yes. The boy was present for me signing all the papers and agreeing to a move in date of August 1st. All the while knowing that he didn't have anywhere to live after July 1st unless it was the house that I'm currently in. The "shabby-chic" house that is no more than 750 square feet. The house that I would not be vacating until August 1st as it turns out.

As you can imagine, I was thrilled to get this news. Live with Tyson again? Sure! Why not? It wasn't that traumatic the first time. It wasn't like that devil dog was one of the reasons why I moved out or anything. Psh. This will be fine.

Even with Blue back until July 15th.

So, just to recap, the boy, Casey, Tyson, Blue and I will all be living in a 750 square foot house. Together. At the same time. All of us.

Laney will be on her own with a very generous friend of mine. Because when I found out this totally awesome information about cohabitation round 2, my only rule was that Tyson and Laney would not live together again. We can not crate Tyson, and there are no extra rooms for him to tear up beyond recognition to keep him in, so I was not about to leave both Tyson and Laney roming free without supervision. No way. So the boy was charged with finding a temporary home for Laney. Which, to his credit, he did.

So mark your calendars. July 1st. Plenty of amusing blogs coming your way, I'm sure. After all, what could possibly go wrong with making three pit bulls and two humans live together in 750 square feet? Nothing, right? Awesome. I should contact Fox. Surely this deserves its own reality TV show.

Powers of Observation

I went to lunch today, parked at a parking meter for all of 15 minutes, and someone hit my car. And then they drove off. Again.

The way that this information came to be grasped by yours truly, however, is a story in and of itself.

So I went to lunch, as mentioned, to one of my favorite restaurants that I generally tend to avoid like the plague during lunchtime because of the tiny TINY parking lot. (the lot, it is tiny.) And after I got my lunch and went back to my office to eat it, I noticed that my driver's side door made a sound when I opened it to get in. However, seeing as how I was parked on a semi busy and very crowded road, I thought "What NOW?!" fully expecting that my car needed oil somewhere, and promised myself that I would check it out in the safety of my garage at work that was merely a mile away.

In the course of driving that mile, I, of course, completely forgot about the noise. Luckily, when I got out of my car the door made the same obnoxious noise. So I looked at what was going on, and I saw this. And by "this" I mean the fact that the door was no longer aligned with the front quarter panel of my car. Ugh. I mean, U-G-H. The conclusion that I leapt to was that someone had hit my car whilst it slept on the street outside of my house. After all, that's what had happened before. Why would this be any different? Also, the damage had only knocked the door askew from the front quarter panel, so it's not like the car was traveling with any velocity when it hit my car. Of COURSE it happened outside of my house last night. Especially when one's house is two doors down from a neighbor who can't drive a car to save his life. Not that I'm insinuating anything, neighbor who constantly has major body work done to his POS car that keeps getting banged up in totally noticeable ways that are sometimes eerily similar to the damage one would see on a car that had hit the rear driver's side quarter panel of a neighbor's car. A blue Honda CR-V perhaps? I'm not insinuating anything at all.*

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. My car and the door. So I got all upset and marched into work where I proceeded to tell my boss (using many colorful expletives and angry words) about how someone hit my car. After listening to my rant, my boss's first question was why I didn't notice the noise my door made this morning when I drove to work. I dismissed this as me being unobservant. But then I started to wonder. The noise is loud. I mean, I noticed it right away. There is no way, no matter how much I hate mornings, that I wouldn't have noticed this problem when I drove to work. None. So what happened?

The next logical conclusion** that I jumped to was that the ding had happened in the garage while I was parked there. The landlord was around doing yardwork. I park next to the mower. It seemed reasonable to me that he had accidentally clipped my car when pulling out the mower. So I went to ask him if this was, in fact, what had happened. (He's a great guy, btw. I have no other explanation why he was so patient with me while I was pretty much telling him that he had dented my car.) After telling me that he had not been in the garage all day, he wanted to see what had happened to my car. So we went out to the garage together. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the first time that I noticed this:

I wish I were kidding.

There is no bending of the truth there, kids. None. The sideswipe runs the LENGTH OF MY CAR and I didn't see it. All I noticed was that my door made a noise when I opened it.

My powers of observation, they are fearsome.

After noticing the sideswipe, it took very little brain power to figure out the rest of what had happened. And after waiting over two hours for a policeman to come so that I could file a report (it was not a good day to be a non-emergency in Indianapolis) I found out that A) there were no security cameras that caught the action and B) there's pretty much nothing I can do but, um, accept what happened.*** I got home around 5:45pm. A little later than usual, but nothing that would generally matter. Except...

The main thing on my mind was the impending rain we were expecting in Indy. See, I have a new toy that I wanted to play with**** and all I wanted to do was get my workout clothes on, get the dog, and get outside for our walk. Single-minded with this purpose, I entered the house, let the dog out of her crate, and went to my bedroom to change. Suddenly, a tiny but persistent thought jumped out at me.

The cat wasn't in the bathroom begging for water.

I brushed it aside. Meh. So what if she always drinks out of the sink? So what if she CONSTANTLY hounds me when I'm in the bathroom to turn on the water? She's probably just not thirsty right now. I have got THINGS TO DO! The cat is probably asleep.

As I exited the bathroom and headed to my bedroom, I spared a glance at the cat's food dish.

The cat wasn't sitting next to her food dish, begging for food.

Now THIS was major. The cat has been on a diet for the last three years or so and, as she would have you believe, has been hungry for every single day of the last three years.

I hesitated, torn. Still, I had THINGS TO DO, so I continued changing and put on my tennis shoes. As I headed back into the living room to leave, I casually opened a few closets, and then casually checked the place where the cat usually sleeps. Nothing. A total of five minutes had elapsed from the time I got home and every minute brought the rain closer. Since my walk with the dog takes an hour, I had to get out the door. The cat was probably, um.... somewhere. I would find her when I got home.

As I was putting on my windbreaker to head outside and could think of NO OTHER OPTIONS for where the cat could be, responsibility won out. I sighed, opened the door to the backyard, and called my cat's name. Immediately I heard an urgent "meow" in return. I called her name again, trying to locate the source of the meow, and heard three more urgent cries, each louder than the last. Then Laney herself came into view, covered in dried grass. I have no idea if she ran out the door when I left for work in the morning or ran out the door five minutes prior when I got home. At that point, I figured I would take a good look at her later, but I had to GET OUT THE DOOR!

I picked her up (she seemed grateful) and brought her back inside. I then fed her and FINALLY got on my way.

So, just to recap. Something majorly terrible happened to my car... the most expensive thing that I own... and I didn't notice it. At all. In fact, if my door hadn't been knocked out of line, there's a good chance that I would STILL have no idea that anything was wrong with my car. I would notice it three days (or weeks) from now, and be all angry that someone had hit me. However, five minutes home with something else being the entire, intense focus of my brain, and I notice that my cat is MIA. My FREE cat that I adopted for FREE when she was a kitten. The cat with no value. The cat who loves me, but who everyone else agrees is pretty much Satan incarnate.

Sigh. I would feel like my values are screwed up except that... Well, it's 1:23am and I'm blogging because I can't sleep. There are four souls in my house tonight. Two asleep, and the other two.. Well...
Sure she's not on my lap, but she's totally purring.

*Note: I'M TOTALLY INSINUATING THAT YOU HIT MY CAR, YOU LOSER! NEXT TIME, LEAVE A DAMN NOTE!

**It wasn't logical in the slightest. FYI.

***This would be one of the places where I would use a more colorful euphemism... but this is a family blog and one never really DOES know who's reading it. Ahem.

****It's the subject of another blog coming soon. Promise.

Why I was late for work today

I got up this morning to the fantastic sight of cat regurgitation on my spot on the couch.

This is certainly not the first time I've awoken to cat regurgitation. But it IS the first time my cat has decided to say "F you" by puking in my couch spot. It's not like that's the ONLY place on the couch that I sit, but it's the spot for optimal TV viewing and laptop using as opposed to optimal lighting for reading. And since I'm in school, let's face it, there's a lot more formal report writing (and mindless TV watching) when I'm at home than there is reading for pleasure. (Side note: Has anyone else noticed the HORRIBLE acting on SVU?)

So my spot. Cat puke. I curse Laney's name, make a mental note to clean it up once I've showered (and the heat has had a chance to make my house less like a refrigerator) and I head off to begin my morning routine.

Can I just mention one thing? The one advantage to living in my very old and tiny living space is the heat. The place is tiny, so once the heat is on it takes approximately 40 seconds to make the place comfortably warm. Fifty seconds to uncomfortably warm, but we don't think about that because in the mornings? There's no such thing. Also, there is a heating vent in my bathroom that takes up approximately 20% of the available floor space. You would think this is an inconvenient thing, but it's not. It's a fabulous thing. What I do is leave the heat very very low at night and snuggle under the covers with a warm puppy. When I wake up, I turn on the heat to about 75 first thing and then jump into the shower. Turning on the heat ensures two things, A) the hot water is SCALDING - just the way I like it and B) the bathroom is a veritable sauna when I step out of the shower. Bliss. In fact, even after you dry off, you can stand over the heating vent in the bathroom (that is fortuitously located immediately above the actual heating unit) and just be warm warm warm.*

Add this routine to the happiness that I already felt because it's Friday (and I don't have to be at work until EIGHT AM!! EIGHT!!! A whole HOUR later than normal!!!!) and I was a happy happy girl once I was dressed, clean and warm. I let Casey outside and decided to check the weather before I committed fully to my outfit for the day.

Another tangent to mention is that I HAZ INNERNETZ IN MY HOUZ!!!! My cheap ass, broke down and went with AT&T for their DSL that is $19.95/month.** (Shameless plug for AT&T! They are not paying me for this endorsement, I am just grateful to have teh innernetz in my house through an entirely painless process even though I don't have a home phone!!) So now? I can respond to emails in the evenings and on weekends! I can watch my tv shows online! I! Can! Check! The! Weather!!!

So I plopped myself down in front of my laptop to check out weather.com.

Right on top of cat puke.

The stream of words that came out of my mouth were NOT words that my mother taught me. Trust. I took off my khaki's, looked at the stain on the butt, looked at my couch, cursed some more and stalked off to find another suitable pair of pants to wear to work on "casual Friday."***

Miraculously, I found another pair of clean khakis. Miraculous because I pretty much LIVE in khakis these days, and laundry is reserved for time between study binges....so pretty much once every two months.

While I'm putting on my second pair of khakis for the day, I decide that the day is not shot. It's FRIDAY for Pete's sake. In fact, the miraculous clean khakis are a SIGN! FROM GOD! It will still be a good day. Sure I have an ochem test on Monday, but I feel reasonably prepared and will spend no less than 20 hours studying this weekend. Maybe I can even squeeze in a good long walk with Casey? In fact, I should go check the weather because I heard that it is going to be a pretty weekend.

So I head over to my laptop and plop myself in front of it to check weather.com.

Right on top of cat puke.

AGAIN!

It's at this point that I decide that I'm going to drink the emergency Coke Classic sitting in my fridge.**** For breakfast. Because really? Twice, Emily? In a span of five minutes?!

Welcome to my life folks. Let this be a warning to anyone else who thinks that taking ten hours of sciences while working full time is a good idea. You will end up sitting in cat puke multiple times as a result of your inability to keep a thought in your head for longer than two minutes.

*I just have to remember to turn the heat back down to "normal" before I leave for work. Total number of times that I've forgotten so far this year? Twice. Boo!!!

**Goodbye morning latte. I'll miss you.

***I'm omitting the part where I possibly briefly considered just wiping off the khakis and wearing them anyway. Because who would think that? Not this girl.

****This post may or not be a result of the high levels of caffeine and sugar running through my veins at this very moment. Please excuse me now, I have to go run laps around my office building for a while.

A Change of Heart

I have had a two-dog household again since July 25th, and I am about done. It's not that I don't love Blue, it's just that Casey and I had settled into our routine and we were doing just fine. It's a difficult adjustment to make. Before, the two dog house was the norm. I didn't know how peaceful things could be with only one dog. Now, it's hard to forget.

Not to mention that I had forgotten that Blue slobbers all over everything and farts all. the. time. Oh, and he'll walk all over you and sit right on top of you if you happen to be in the spot on the couch that he has designated as his. And he steals Casey's treats on a regular basis. Doesn't matter how handsome he is, he's your typical boy, and I have gotten used to an all-female household.

So when making arrangements to return him to my parents' house, I was surprised to hear my father say that I could keep Blue after I asked him whether or not he missed having a dog around. That their house really doesn't need any animals at all. Not even the two cats my parents currently live with.

I cautiously said, "Dad, if you don't WANT Blue, I don't want to force him on you. He can stay here, no problem." While inside I was pleading, "no, no! Dear God, NO!!"

My father responded equally as cautiously. "If you WANT to keep him, that's okay."

I considered for a moment. "Dad, he can stay. It's no problem. He's already here and I don't want to put you out at all."

A sigh. "No, it's just that I feel we're being cruel. You know, here he gets to be outside all the time, he gets to lay on the couch all day..."

"...while here he's in a crate all day while I'm at work. I know. But dad, he's a dog. He doesn't understand that. All he knows is that when he's with Emily, this is how it is. It's not better or worse than at your house. It just is. Dogs live in the moment."

"I'll make you a deal. I'll take Blue if you take Dorian."

A little background on Dorian. My parents already had one cat, Indy*, when my brother brought home another cat from college. That cat, unfortunately, perished due to an unfortunate incident after only a short time at my parent's house. But my mother was convinced that Indy was "lonely" without a companion.** So off to the Humane Society they went. And brought home Dorian. Who my brother is now convinced was drugged when they met him.

Since then, Dorian has gotten into the trash, meowed so loudly as to wake my parents, taught Indy that it was okay to meow at all hours to get what he wants, proceeded to overeat (and regurgitate) regularly, and attacks the pit bulls that visit at every opportunity. Even without claws.

Suffice to say that no one really likes Dorian. But since all creatures need love (except for satan-dog) and because of a little pressure from their animal-minded daughter, Dorian stays.

Struggling not to laugh, I responded, "What happened now?"

"Oh, I plugged in your mother's speaker for the TV, and Dorian immediately started chewing on the wires. So I gave him a little kick. And then I came back downstairs later and he had pooped on my seat!"

Having some experience with a vindictive cat before, I am failing miserably at containing my laughter at this point.

"I'm sorry dad, but Laney is an only cat. No other cats would survive in my house."

"Oh that's okay. If she kills him, just dig a little hole out back and dump him in it."

"DAD!!"

None of this diverted me from the worry that perhaps I was shoving Blue into an unwelcome household. Until I spoke to my mother.

"Okay, so we'll meet you to pick up Blue-Blue on Sunday, right?"

"Perfect."

"And the doctors told me that I need to walk as much as possible to avoid blood clots after surgery. So it will be good to have him back because I am going to walk with him in the mornings. Hopefully it won't be as hot as it has been because you know he can't stand the heat. Have you trimmed his nails? Does he miss us?"

And then I realized that it doesn't really matter unless the entire household has a change of heart. As long as Blue is still my mom's baby, he's welcome in their house.

Dorian, on the other hand....

*aka "Super Cat," "Best Cat Ever," and "Cat that thinks he's a dog."

**And I believe, under the assumption that all cats were as fantastic as Indy.

Good Kitty.

I don't write about Laney very often anymore. Not that Laney doesn't have a special place in my heart. We've been together longer for far longer than any of the other relationships I have with those in my apartment. But she's so much more low maintenance. It's easy to forget about Laney in the chaos that is my apartment every evening.

It's the classic "squeaky wheel gets the grease" syndrome. The dogs are so much more needy...and Laney, well, all that Laney needs is food in the morning and a warm body to sleep next to at night.

I'd like to note that although the boyfriend is warmer than I am, she is consistently on my side of the bed - the side away from the boyfriend. We've lived together for over a year now, but I think that deep down, Laney just can't accept this new person as permanent. She's just waiting until he leaves. (This is her attitude WITH the boyfriend feeding her every morning and giving her treats in the evening.)

It took Laney a while to get adjusted to the new living conditions, what with the two obnoxious dogs that she now lives with, but she's getting there. She's generally annoyed by Casey (who will chase her around the apartment for fun), but is learning to stand her ground with Tyson. I've found them nose to nose before with Tyson looking on with curiosity and Laney looking in in hatred. I don't think she's frightened of the dogs, per se. More just extremely annoyed.

But then, I've never said Laney was a nice kitty. She loves me, and that's all that matters. To everyone else, well...

This past weekend, as I set about doing the laundry, I noticed a pile of the boyfriend's clothing obscuring the rocker/recliner in our bedroom. It's a constant source of irritation for me, but apparently the boyfriend just doesn't understand that if the clothes aren't in the hamper, they aren't going to get washed. I've given up complaining, and will merely mention every now and again that I am doing laundry, and if his work clothes aren't washed, it's no longer my responsibility.

The clothes continued to sit on the floor and on the chair.

Laney spends most of her time in the bedroom - it's a safe haven from the dogs. I, personally, feel that she's seen this drama play out too many times and has now come to the end of her patience. She decided to take matters into her own paws, so to speak.

Monday night, I entered the bedroom to find Laney pawing the clothing in that unmistakable "I just peed here and am trying to cover it up" way that cats have. I shooed her away, picked up the soiled clothing and mentioned to the boyfriend that "we" (meaning he) *may* have a problem.

Within thirty minutes, all the clothing was picked up, put in drawers, or hung where appropriate.

That's a good kitty.

Crankypants

After Thanksgiving spent in the 'ville (where I learned that Casey has an affinity for large piles of leaves) my family made the trek to Indianapolis on Sunday for the Colts/Eagles game at the Dome. We were unable to all sit together, so there were two seats together in nosebleed, four seats together in nosebleed, and two seats together in the really really good section. The boyfriend and I spent the first half of the game in the nosebleeds, and the second half in the really really good seats. Honestly? The nosebleeds were more fun. That's where the rowdy, drunk, true Colts fans are. Rich people are too refined to cheer.....

Since the game was moved to Sunday night under the NFL flexible scheduling, (and coming home to a sick puppy and a mess in her crate) I got very little sleep Sunday night. This led to crankypants Emily on Monday and Tuesday. I'm just now recovering and mending fences. I couldn't even indulge in comfort food like one friend suggested since we're going on a cruise on Saturday and I would like to look decent in a bathing suit....

By the way, if you were EVER considering taking two, week long vacations in two months, don't.

Since Casey was sick, she came to work with me on Monday and Tuesday. She was a pain in my rear both days. Even though she's over a year old now, she still has that puppy energy, and got into everything she could get into. I finally got peace when I gave her a cardboard box which she then proceeded to destroy with relish.

Last night was the breaking point, though....which made me re-examine my cohabitation situation, and to provide an update to my blog readers. (Side note: I got an interesting comment from a friend the other day. She said, "I have to say I enjoy your blogs because it reminds me how your mind works. It's pretty funny sometimes, other times it's down right hilarious (usually because it's you and not me)" So I thought an update on the situation in my apartment was due.)

Tyson sucks. The end.

Okay, so there's more than that, but that's the main idea. The boyfriend complains that Tyson and Casey are treated differently, and that's not fair. I say that all dogs are not created equal. I mean, it's like how one child might get a balcony room with a view, while another child gets a padded cell with no windows. It's not because anyone is treating them unfairly, it's just that circumstances demand that one child be protected from themself and others. That child is Tyson.

I haven't had a meal in peace since the boyfriend and I moved in together, unless you count meals outside the apartment, or when the boyfriend generously decides to leave and take Tyson with him. That's six months of non-peaceful meals. Usually, my meals are accompanied with a background music made up of whines, howls, and general squealing. It's moved beyond pathetic to obnoxious at this point. I mean, when I have guests over....Oh wait! I CAN'T have guests over. That's right. Tyson screams like a banshee and the guests would think I'm torturing the dog while we're eating dinner. My bad.

The problem is that I can't leave the dogs free while we're eating. Casey is an active begger (shoving her nose in your face or as close to your plate as possible) and Tyson, well, while we're eating, I can't really watch Tyson 100% of the time, and if he smells Laney...well....

The animal behaviorist? Yeah, her suggestions to turn on the TV, put a t-shirt that smells like the boyfriend in the room, and reward good behavior, were all used. They all failed. Now, Tyson gets to watch TV all day and run up my electric bill. All the while, the bottom half of the door gets narrower and narrower as I find more and more wood chips on the floor from his digging. There goes the boyfriend's deposit :-)

The thing is, I don't think Tyson's behavior is caused by anxiety any longer. I mean, it's been 6 months. At this point, he's GOT to know that he sometimes gets out of the room, sometimes he's in the room, and he's always going to get to be with Nathan... I mean, he no longer cries in the mornings. At least there was progress there. I get up in the morning, get ready for work, walk the dogs, put them away with treats, and then go to work. Not a peep from Tyson. So he KNOWS what's going on. In the evenings, he's just being an asshole. I think he's trying to drive me insane so that I'M the one in a padded cell, and he can have the boyfriend all to himself again. I actually had the following discussion with my boss's wife the other day. I was completely serious.

"So, my brother got Casey a huge rawhide for Christmas. The thing must be three feet long and a foot high on the ends. I don't know what we're going to do with it. She can't get her mouth around it to chew. Maybe I'll just saw it in half and give half to Tyson and the other half to Casey."
"Does Tyson really deserve a Christmas gift?"
"Actually, I was hoping he would choke on it."

Not that Laney has gotten much better.... The peeing on the boyfriend's clothing has ceased, basically because now the boyfriend piles his dirty clothing on his dresser, my dresser, the bathroom counter...anywhere but the hamper. However, she has designated the boyfriend's chair (in our bedroom) as her second litter box and peed on it at least 5 times.

That 'Nature's Miracle' stuff that is made especially for cat urine and eliminates all odors and costs about $12 per little spray bottle? Yeah, it's a crap. I may as well have purchased a very expensive spray bottle and filled it with water. The boyfriend and I moved the chair to the dumpster in our apartment complex, under the cover of darkness. The chair is officially dead. We have increased the "changing of the litter" to once every two days. Even with that change, she seems angry. Last night she pooped in her litter box and didn't cover it. When the smell hit me, it literally made my eyes water. I think that was a big "F you" from the cat for thowing away "her" chair.

She HAS gotten better around Tyson, however. It seems she has learned that Tyson's vision, much like the T-Rex, is based on motion. If she holds perfectly still, Tyson smells her, and can tell that there's something weird in the air, but can't find her. However, if her courage gives, and she bolts, he's after her like a shot. Last time he chased her, we finally caught up to them in Laney's bathroom. Both were in the bathtub, Laney was puffed up to about three times her usual size and growling, while Tyson was just staring at her in confusion...probably thinking, "Whoa, little deformed dog....why are you so angry?"

Otherwise, things are fabulous. I mean, apart from the basic differences between males and females. (which include putting dirty dishes in the sink, dirty clothes in the hamper, spending less than 45 minutes on the toilet [did you know this about men? What do they DO in the bathroom for all that time?], and making plans in advance.)

We're leaving on Saturday for a cruise. Casey's boarding reservation has been made for weeks now, after I compared costing on a couple of different options. I asked the boyfriend yesterday what was going on with Tyson. "I don't know." was my response. I have this nightmare vision of having to take Tyson on the cruise....

Well, at least then he could "accidentally" fall overboard.

Cohabitation - Part I

Let's talk about dysfunctional cohabitation. I wasn't going to blog about this, but after hearing my friend Kat(i)e in tears of laughter over my situation, I thought it might bring some entertainment to others. Unfortunately, there's so much to tell, that it will have to be done in stages.

I would just like to start by saying that I did not take the decision to move in with a boy lightly. I pondered it, mulled it over, worried about it incessantly, and considered what I thought was every issue that we could face. I then tried to determine whether or not we could handle the issues I conjured. Finally, after a subtle shove from a very diplomatic cousin, I took the plunge - confident that I had considered every angle.

I hadn't.

Let's start with Laney, shall we? Laney is my 6 year old cat. To be fair to her, Laney's world has been turned upside down in the span of 6 months. She was an only cat for the last three years (except for a brief stint when Maggie stayed with us. Poor Maggie. Let's all take a moment of silence for Maggie At least she's in a better place now). This is Laney. She looks evil, no?



Being an only cat is just the way Laney likes it. She's the queen of the apartment. The only child that I could lavish attention upon - when she feels like having attention lavished upon her, that is. See, my cat loves me, but she's a complete b*tch to everyone else. This is including the boyfriend, and believe me, he's tried to get in her good graces. This is the same cat that took a dump right next to my brother's head when he stayed with me one night because he spent the majority of the evening harassing the cat (by harassing I mean "trying to pet her when Laney was not in the mood.") She's not the forgive and forget type. But I always said, "Love me, love my cat," and the boyfriend has gamely tried to win her favor.

Which brings us to our issue.

Until 6 months ago, Laney thought she was living the perfect cat life. Then I brought home this little puppy. No problem in the beginning - Laney was twice her size and beat the hell out of her. But then the puppy grew. And then Laney had to accept that the puppy appeared to be around for good. She slowly adjusted. They became, if not friends, at least roommates who were civil to each other.

Then I moved Laney into an entirely new apartment with a huge cat-eating monster who's made up entirely of teeth and tongue. (otherwise known as Tyson. I've posted a picture so you can see who he is.) This appears to be more than Laney can handle.

Now, we don't actually know if Tyson is a cat-eating monster. We just know that he shows an inordinate amount of interest in Laney whenever he sees her. The type of interest that causes him to lunge after her, chase her around, and be completely unfazed if she manages to slice open his cheek with her claws, hiss, growl, and puff into a cat twice her size. When we had Tyson/Laney round one, it was in a darkened room, so we're not entirely certain what happened before they were separated. We just know that in the aftermath, Laney was huddled in a ball with HUGE pupils, and she appeared to have been licked in several places (the HORROR!) Can you imagine what this does to a cat's dignity?

So, who does Laney blame for this horrendous living situation? She blames the boyfriend, of course. Entirely. He is now the bane of her existence. He is dead to her.

Except when he leaves clothing on the floor.

The first night in the new apartment, when we were getting ready for bed, the boyfriend threw his clothes on the floor. I picked them up and put them in the hamper. He said, "That's right. You have a hamper. I'll have to get used to that." At that time, it was just something for me to sigh and shake my head about. Boys are gross.

Now, it's a lesson that the boyfriend has had to learn perfectly and quickly. No mistakes. Because if he leaves ANY article of clothing on the floor, Laney has herself a pee party. Seriously. I think she saves her pee for just such occasions. It can be a sock, a shirt, or a duffle bag full of clothing that hasn't been unpacked. If it's on the floor, Laney will pee on it.

I can leave any type of clothing out, and its not touched.

We found this out about a week after moving in to the apartment. There were piles of the boyfriend's clothing in our bedroom that he hadn't yet put away. I came into the room to see him throwing them viciously into the hamper.

"Ummm...?"

"That GODD**N cat pissed all over my clothes. They all smell like CAT PISS!"

(I tried so hard not to laugh.)

"I'm sorry. We'll wash them now and see if we can get the smell out." (I was trying to be optimistic for his sake. If anyone knows of a way to get the smell of cat pee out of fabric, please share suggestions)

A couple of days later, I happened to see Laney pawing at a duffle bag full of the boyfriend's clothes (on the floor of our closet.) I shooed her away - too late. After THAT incident, the boyfriend laid down the law. Cat is no longer allowed in the bedroom.

Laney continues to sleep with us every night.

Okay new law. Cat is only allowed in the bedroom when we're home. Whoever leaves last is responsible for getting the cat out of the bedroom.

This law was in place until the boyfriend was the last to leave the next day. When I came home that evening, Laney strolled out of the bedroom to greet me, and when the boyfriend got home, he showed me the battle scars all over his hands. One of the scratches was even in an L shape, just to remind the boyfriend not to try again.

Because she knows that Tyson is let out every morning, Laney disappears when the alarm goes off. I think she's lying in wait. If the boyfriend puts anything down on the ground, she appears within 5 seconds. It's like magic. He keeps yelling at her and telling her no. She just flattens her ears, and looks at him with narrowed eyes. I'm waiting for her to poop on his pillow one of these nights. She already pooped on the bathmat in our bathroom. While the boyfriend was in the shower. I told him to look at the bright side - at least he didn't step in it.
Yes, these are the issues we are facing with Laney. But she's not the worst one. There's more to come...