1.27.2006

C Words

On my way to work I saw a very large man standing nonchalantly on the sidewalk, dressed head to toe as the Statue of Liberty. The absence of a sandwich board or some other sign, or even a nearby business made me doubt he was advertising anything. Except maybe CRAZY. And we make our Crazy at home, thankyouverymuch, we don’t need to be getting it on the street.

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I'm the co-coordinator of the Dallas branch of a nationally-recognized animal rescue and rehabilitation organization. (Yes. It has a heart.) (Now say that first sentence three times fast without running out of breath.) I just thought I'd put a little disclaimer out there before this next sentence: I'm contemplating killing my boss's cat. Honestly, I've never been a big fan of cats, mainly because it's hard to be a fan of anything that digs around in its toilet and then walks across your counters, kitchen table, furniture and pillows. And please don't e-mail me saying "my cat NEVER does that" because you're not home every minute and you can swat it, yell at it, spray it with water every time its little paws leave the floor when you're home to see it happen, but when you're not? It's a cat, people, and cats are not known for their listening and obedience skills. Even if they were, I'm willing to bet heavily that your cat does not give a crumbly corner of a crap about your new sheet set or freshly-wiped counter tops.

What makes cats even more fun for me is the fact that I am severly allergic. Put one under my nose and I'm sneezing and wheezing in minutes. I cannot touch a cat without having to immediately run away and wash my hands (and clothes. and nostrils).

So. Boss's cat has recently decided that my little Wizard of Oz area is the place to be, every morning and every afternoon. More accurately, my chair is the best part of the place to be. Every morning and every afternoon, he pushes through the curtain into my "office," walks up to my chair (meowing LOUDLY), and tries to get up into the space behind my lower back. Every morning and afternoon I discourage this, which prompts about an hour (EACH TIME) of strutting around my office, looking up at me accusingly, and complaining in an ugly, warbling, repeating cry how much I have wounded him. Twice a day, this is the exchange I have with the damn cat (you'd think one of us would get the hint by now):

Boss's cat (pushing into my office): Mrrroowwww! [translation: Well? Here I am!]

Me: Get out of here, cat.

Boss's cat (circling my chair): Mrrroowwww! [translation: But I just got here, and you, you fiend, are in my chair!]

Me: Get out, cat.

B.C. (trying to push my ass off the chair): Mrrroowwww! [translation: Make me.]

Me: You know I can't touch you- get out of here.

B.C. (circling the chair again): Mrrroowwww! [translation: You will now pay more attention to me.]

Me: Shut it.

B.C.: Mrrroowwww! [translation: Hellooo?!]

Me (gritting teeth): Shut. it.

B.C. (still circling): Mrrroowwww! [translation: Or, I could just do this! Until you give in!] Mrrroowwww! Mrrroowwww! Mrrroowwww! Mrrroowwww! Mrrroowwww! [translation: Am I annoying you yet? How 'bout now? How 'bout now? How 'bout... NOW!]

At that moment I am forced to firmly push him out with the pointy toe of my shoe. If I display the poor judgment of getting out of my chair for anything at any time throughout the day, there is a good chance I will come back to find the crafty feline curled up in my desk chair with a smirk on his face. Until I tip the chair over and dump him out.

Every day, twice a day. Looks like I'll be getting my Crazy at the office from now on.


1 comment:

Blogger Lisa said...

Not a big fan of cats either. So I can totally see your point. But that really sucks that the damn thing comes into your office. Because if you are allergic, the LAST place your bosses cat should be in IN the office. Get out your little water gun. Maybe it won't like getting squirted?

5:54 PM  

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