Cats: Ancient Beings

Today in an effort to procrastinate from all things productive, I looked up the conversion chart that shows cat ages in human age equivalents.  It explains a lot:

Past age five cats are basically old.  It’s that simple.  Apparently cats spend the majority of their lives elderly.For anyone who has ever owned a cat that certainly would explain their constant sleeping, general grumpiness, attention seeking behaviors, and demanding nature.  Chances are your cat is way older than you, and you damn well better get off your lazy butt and bring me some food, you little whipper-snapper!

My cats Lucy and Ethel are apparently 72 and 60 respectively.  That certainly explains these sort of looks I get from Lucy:

But I assure you despite being a septuagenarian, Lucy still tries to be alluring from time to time:

Good for her!  Now I have to go and get them both some food before they get pissy with me.

Cat’s Out of the Bag

My cat hates me for saving her life.  I give up.  I was just trying to get her out of the plastic bag she had crawled halfway inside.  Like any good parent these days, I did take a picture of her predicament first before stopping to render aid. 

Stupid me figured dying of asphyxiation wasn’t on her kitty-cat to do list for the day.  Instead of a thank you purr or nuzzle I got hissed and swatted at.  You’re welcome cat.  Don’t let her innocent furry face fool you…she’s pure evil.

He’s Just Jealous

A few weeks ago I was reading the hard news from the reputable source, BuzzFeed.  Yeah I know, but what can I say I am half Millennial, we have already covered this.

Anyway one of their quizzes was about into which house in Harry Potter your cat would be sorted.  Well, duh!  When presented with a scientific opportunity like this of course I am going to participate.

So I decided to take the quiz for my cat, Lucy. 


Lucy is 13 and ornery as shit, but I love her dearly.  I had to answer hard hitting questions about her napping and eating habits.  There were questions about her choices in play activities and where she would be found hanging out in Hogwarts.  It was intense stuff.

Butterflies fluttered in my tummy as I pressed the last answer and Lucy was sorted into her house… A Gryffindor!!!


Now even though I have been sorted into the clearly superior house of Ravenclaw, I was still incredibly proud of my furry little Gryffindor.  I tugged at Ryan and contentedly waved my phone in front of his face showing him Lucy’s new house.

He was not nearly as impressed as he should have been, but he did ask me where his cat, Ethel, was sorted.  To which I replied, “Take the damn quiz yourself and find out.”  He was having none of that.  Apparently he is above spending his precious time taking on-line quizzes for cats.  I don’t know what is wrong with him.  Being the devoted wife I am, I told him I would take the quiz for Ethel as well.


She’s a Slytherin.


Ryan didn’t believe me.  He couldn’t believe it could possibly be his cat that was tempted by the dark arts.  I promise I was honest though.  I suspect Ethel’s habit of unprompted biting and her inability to tolerate lap sitting had something to do with the results.  Ryan pouted, and I explained I was sorry that his kitty was clearly lacking in moral fiber, but this was a scientifically based test and Ethel had obviously been sorted correctly.

I would never embarrass my husband by telling the world how much he pouted about his cat being a Slytherin.  I am too faithful a wife to say that he was grumpy about it every time I brought it up.  And I promise, I only brought it up like 50 more times or so…that day.

Oh, The Elderly

I have an elderly cat named, Lucy.  She has been with me since she was five weeks old and now she is 13.  She has never been a particularly friendly cat, but I love her anyway.  Her aloofness makes those few moments when she does decide to snuggle even more special.  Usually it is in the winter and she is honestly just sitting in my lap to use me for my body heat, but I still treasure ever second she acts like a lap cat.

In her old age she is developing some annoying little habits though.  Suddenly she had become the litter box monitor.  If there is not enough litter in the box or if she thinks it is too dirty she sends me little messages.  Her little messages appear right outside the box, and they are hard to ignore.  She has me trained pretty well.  As soon as she leaves her note I get her box spick and span for her fluffy little ass.

I can’t blame her really, I mean nobody likes a dirty toilet.  I just wish her communication skills were a little less smelly and hard to clean up.