And my day started off so well. Got up after only 3 alarms (I make the alarm noise more and more annoying so by the third one, I have to give in and get up). As I was getting ready to go to work, Boca pushed open the bathroom door and gave me that specific cat look that only cat owners can appreciate. You know, the “you don’t know what you did yet but you pissed me off” look. Usually when Boca comes inside our bedroom in the morning he just wants to go to sleep on our bed. So I was a bit confused as to why he was suddenly so interested in my daily make-up application.
Boca clearly had an issue. And while I knew this I also pretty much ignored him. All the way up until he walked over to a pile of dirty towels on the floor, squatted on top and peed. OMG. Pee cat smell in the morning. They should can that smell so you can give it as a gift to people you do not like. Or you could use it to spray the office as you exit after being fired. Or use it in your ex’s car as a special good-bye treat. Possibilities are endless. Of course Boca was immediately reprimanded, his fat ass tossed out of the room and all the towels had to go into the washer on the Super Wash Cycle for Cat Piss which includes extra detergent, a bleach tablet, two scoops of detergent booster and you damn well knew you were going to wash that load at least twice.
Oh but he wasn’t done yet. When I came out the bedroom ready to head out, Boca had taken his food bowl and spilled his food all over the kitchen floor. Now, to me this is a lot like the “I swear I didn’t see the pet vomit on the floor before I left for work” and you leave it for someone else to deal with. But this time I now realized what the problem was. Boca had the wrong food. You don’t mess with Boca’s food brand. He has had the same food for years and does not appreciate any changes (trust me, I have tried the 6 for $1.00 generic brand canned cat food but always have to go back to the $1.33 packet). And I TOLD my husband that when I saw him buy it. But noooooo, he didn’t listen.
As I put Abbey into my daughter’s bedroom (a morning ritual), Casey ran out to go pee. Except he couldn’t. Because there was pissed off Boca sitting right smack in front of the pet door and we all know both the dogs are afraid of the cat. I finally had to scoop Boca out of the way and call him a “Bad Cat” which at this point in his life after hearing it a bizillion times has probably been translated by cat talk into meaning “I am the king, I am the ruler, Obey me.”
Tapping my foot as I waited for Casey to come back inside (I was afraid to leave him alone with the cat and also didn’t want to leave my daughter’s bedroom door open because then Boca would just have a new person to annoy). Finally I looked outside and there was Boca again. Except this time he was outside not letting Casey inside. I was done. I grabbed Casey, threw him into Christina’s bedroom. Pulled out the regular cat food, fed the cat and left.
I made my husband pick up all the cat food all over the kitchen floor. After all, this whole thing was his fault and I swear I just didn’t see it.