Tuesday, April 19, 2011

And she'll probably deserve it.

The one on the left is Alabama.  She is one of our three cats.  The one looking like life has burdened him, on the right, is Dixon.  The cat loves her some Pug.  The pug?  Not so much.  To be fair, she is what one would generously call a nuisance.  She's incredibly sweet, extremely friendly, but is a complete pain in the ass.  The cat that will fuck with you all night, waking you just enough to screw with your sleep.  She has been literally thrown off the bed, I don't know how many times, and always comes back.  When you wake in the morning, she is the sweet one, all curled up in a ball fast asleep, and you are left wondering if it was all a terrible dream.

Bama has a litter-mate brother in residence.  Clarence.  Clarence is a BIG, dumb, oaf.  As sweet as the day is long, frightened of people he doesn't know well (anyone that isn't me or Rob), and is kind of like a large, warm paperweight.  He does nothing but sleep and eat.  If Clarence is perchance walking around, and Bama is within a foot of him she will yowl LOUDLY, as if stepped on.  She is a bitch, that way.  She harasses him to no end.  All my boy wants is some sleep, a hard rub down (he thoroughly enjoys being slapped on his kitty ass...told you, not too bright), and some wet food every once in a while. 

Clarence is smart enough to avoid Cam.  When I lay down on the floor to play with Cam, sometimes Clarence will slink out of his box (a basket of baby stuff he likes to nest in) and come lay next to me, looking for a good ass smack.  Then he sees Cam, a blur of motion, and he retreats.  Only smart thing I have ever seen that cat do.  Seriously.  Once as a kitten I watched him fall off a chair...and he didn't land on his feet.

But Alabama.  She loves her some human family.  Needs to be right in the thick of any and all family members.  She has lost more fur to Campbell's clutches than I really dare admit.  At night when we put Cam down for bed, Bama likes to come and lay next to us.  It's very sweet.  That is, until one night she got locked in Cam's room.  We were watching TV when I saw something suddenly move on the baby monitor.  It was Ala-fucking-bama perched on the rail of the crib.  I had to admire the skill in staying steady for the 15 seconds it took for me to run up the stairs and fling the door open to snatch her up.  That was about six months ago.  Ever since then, I make a note to grab the cat before exiting the room.  Except Alabama got the brains her brother clearly didn't, she now hides from me.  I am a little ashamed (although not at the time) to admit that I have used her tail more than once to get leverage on her hiding spot and roust her out. There's nothing like sitting down after your child is finally asleep for the night, dishes are washed, you are about to get comfy on the sofa, when you glimpse the monitor and .... what the hell?!  Bama is nosing around the baby, annoying her as she does us. And then we have an angry Cam on our hands because her 14+ hours of sleep have been disturbed.

So when Rob came up the stairs the other day with a grim look on his face and said "....blah blah blah....Alabama..." I kind of ignored him (hence all the blah-blah-blahs).  I figured he was just going to tell me what an asshole she had been...again.  No, he was telling me that Campbell has taken a vested interest in annoying Alabama.  Heh.  Karma is a bitch, no?

Rob was all worried that Cam was going to hurt her, so he had been trying to contain Cam and keep her from the cat.  What I was thinking:  "she's a CAT.  Nimble (except Clarence, ahem), agile, fast, in other words: CAPABLE OF GETTING OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY.  I could tell by the look on Rob's face he was perturbed at my lack of empathy or whatever.  I explained that no I don't want our baby damaging the cat, and that yes I will work on it with her.  He knows I don't put up with rough play with the Pugs, so I just let it go.

Til today.  I am cleaning up after lunch.  I can hear Cam chattering away, music is playing, all is fine...until...meeee - YOOOOOOOOW.  I look into the living room to see Cam grinning ear to ear, bouncing up and down on the dog bed (dogs NEVER sleep on it, should just call it Cam's new beanbag or the cat bed) while Bama lays curled next to her.  Um okay.  Swear I heard a cat yowl.  Back to cleaning.  Hear it again.  Same thing, Cam grinning and bouncing, Bama laying there like she's all chill.  Dixon, who we call the regulator, is now sitting up, ears perked.  He HATES when other animals have fun.  He's our own fun police, and will dispatch his slumbering body and bark after any and all animals that look like they may be enjoying themselves.  So when Dixon is alert (um, he sleeps roughly 23 hours a day...it's what Pugs do), I know something is amiss.  Now that Cam has an audience, she bounces as hard as she can, and then flings herself and falls flat on top of Alabama.  Gales of laughter erupt.  And not just from Cam.  Then I picture Rob's stern face in my head, and tell Cam "NO!  No hurt kitty, GENTLE!"  And we all know what happens when you tell a 14 month old to stop doing that.  Right.  The stupid cat stayed there through 3 more belly flops. 

I remove Cam from the dog bed.  She gets interested in her books, I round the corner to rinse some diapers and I am joined by Alabama (not unusual, cat loves to visit me in the potty, go figure), and close on her heels is Cam.  Within a blink of an eye, Cam has her trapped between the wall, the toilet, and a bucket of wet diapers.  Amazingly, that dumb cat squeezes through a tiny space between the wall and toilet and lights out of the room as if on fire.  I figure she has gone up the stairs to finally escape the torment of devil baby.  Nope.  She perches right on the sofa, eye level with Cam.  NEVER LEARNS, THAT ONE.

I may change her name to DEATH WISH.

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