Category Archives: Pets

Explaining the Concept of a Rental to a Cat:

Since moving from the country, Boca cat has become much more complacent and, well, kinda fat.  In the morning when I am getting ready for work and he wants a drink from the sink, I tell him if he can’t jump up onto the bathroom counter, well then he can’t get a drink from the running faucet.  And then like most parents, weeks later I discovered that when my husband gets up after me, he picks him up and sets him on the counter for a drink every morning. Not very good pet parenting on our part, as usual.  Kind of like when we feed Abbey twice because she is such a good liar that “OMG no one fed me this morning!” (It doesn’t work at night because we can check).

But back to the cat.  As usual, what got Boca in trouble was the dead bunny.

Now, I will admit that this was an accomplishment for a bit overweight Boca. Because there are simply no bunnies running around our neighborhood.  Which means he had to travel across the street to the field, catch the bunny, carry it two blocks back to the house, under the backyard fence, through the pet door and into the spare bedroom.

And then ate the head.

I got a text message around 11 am from my husband: “You have to  clean up the dead animal in the bedroom when you get home.”

Of which my quick response was to text Christina and say: “You need to throw out the dead carcass that Boca brought inside last night.”

Christina willingly offered to throw it away but “only because there wasn’t bloody guts everywhere.”

To which I then texted my husband: “If I clean up the dead body, will you get the blood out of  the carpet?”

“Deal,” he replied.

No one should be this smart.

However, I still had to explain to Boca that since we now live in a rental house, he was no longer allowed to kill various vermin and bring them inside.  I am not sure he quite understood the lecture, especially since he was yawning at me the whole time, but I do know one thing:  If we end up losing our rental deposit because of dead animal clean up, it is coming out of his Friskies cat food.


Exhaustion after bunny hunting all night



Groomer = 0 Casey = 1

There is a long history to Casey being groomed.  When we first got him as a puppy, he had long hair which 10-year-old Christina promised to faithfully brush every single day if only we would let her keep him.

Fast forward two years. Of course the now 12-year-old Christina had absolutely no idea how much work it would take to keep Casey’s fur nice. Which meant she didn’t brush him everyday.  Which meant he would get tangles and mats in his fur. When it got really bad, we would make an appointment with Tracy to get him groomed. It only took Tracy two times grooming Casey before she suggested to Christina that she try a new haircut for Casey. It was called “a puppy cut with a teddy bear face.”  I think the only thing Christina really heard at the time was “you won’t have to worry about brushing him.” It was a great idea and the perfect haircut. Even now at the old age of 13 Casey still looks like a little puppy with this cute haircut. Of course this doesn’t mean that Casey enjoys being groomed; he absolutely hates it.

Because we moved around a lot, there were a few different groomers.  The first time Stella groomed Casey she asked if we could possibly get some doggie valium for the next visit.   Groomer Trish said she worked it out where Casey would get “a little bit of grooming over a 4-hour period of time” so both of them could get through the ordeal. I loved Denise the best.  The first time she groomed Casey she handed him back to Christina and said, “He’s a brat.”  It was nice to find someone so  honest.

Another issue I know I have mentioned before is called poopie butt. When Casey gets poopie butt, he immediately needs a bath and also an appointment to be groomed.  Whoever is at home when it happens has to give him a bath. And trust me, no one wants to do that. And you can immediately tell when Casey has poopie butt because he has “that look.”  You know, the one when you are potty training a toddler and they go in their big boy pants but don’t want to admit it.

New home – new groomer.  Christina made an appointment weeks in advance (no one grooms on a weekend here, can you believe that?) and took him to the new groomer on Friday.  And then picked him up. Without being groomed.

“We couldn’t groom Casey because he was uncooperative.”

“So what? He is 7 pounds.”

“It seemed like we were really upsetting him.”

“So what? He needs to be groomed. And he is only 7 pounds.”

“We’re sure you didn’t want us to force the issue.”

“Umm, yes I did. There is this thing called poopie butt.  Did I mention he is only 7 pounds?”

So the end result is Casey did not get groomed but he did get a nice and quick butt trim. What we are more worried about is that he now thinks he can get out of being groomed. Hopefully there is a groomer somewhere in this city who won’t let a 7 pound Yorkie make that decision.

Explanation for the Dead Rabbit

I had both the downstairs flooring guys and the house painters at the house today.  My painter guy told me that the downstairs flooring guy asked how well he knew us.  When he asked why, the flooring guy said “Because there is a dead rabbit in the downstairs bathroom.”

Damn cat.

I went downstairs and sure enough, there was a good sized dead bunny in the bathroom. As I cleaned up the mess,  I apologized to the flooring guy and explained that our cat liked to bring in creatures and that was why there was a dead animal in the bathroom.

But I didn’t feel this was quite enough to vindicate our family.  So I hunted down Boca-cat who was soundly sleeping in a box in the office and shoved him down the basement stairs closing the door behind him so he would be forced to go through the pet door (and past the flooring guy).

“I saw your cat.” He said to me later.  “He is really big.”

“Yeah – well thanks for asking about the dead rabbit in the bathroom.  I would hate for you to leave thinking WTF about that.”

Home Improvement Part 2 (Pets)

Was it the cat or the dog?  Casey - The cement was on his feet.

Was it the cat or the dog? Casey – The cement was on his feet.

In all fairness to Abbey, my son's tennis shoe imprint was there, too.

In all fairness to Abbey, my son’s tennis shoe imprint was there, too.

If it is a box, it is considered a Boca Bed

If it is a box, it is considered a Boca Bed

And when all the banging and strange people become too much, Casey hides under the bed.

And when all the banging and strange people become too much, Casey hides under the bed.

Miss Independent – Sorta

My 22-year-old daughter moved out of our house and into an apartment with her girlfriend last November.  It was very exciting to help her with this  very first totally independent adult endeavor.  Which makes the following even more understandable:

  • Christina’s roommate likes to cook.  Christina never graduated beyond grilled cheese sandwich at home.  As an example to show just how much I have taught her about cooking, she came home on a weekend and said, “Mom!  Did you know you could freeze meat?!”
  • My husband was showing Christina how to work the fireplace in her living room. “But be careful the first time you use it,” he told her. “Oh, don’t worry,” she replied. “I would never use it without adult supervision.”
  • “What? Use the laundry facilities at the apartment?  Are you crazy?  Strangers underwear have been in those machines.  I am just going to come home every weekend and wash my clothes here, okay?”
  • My husband emailed a link to my daughter on new iPhones.  She immediately emailed him back fairly screeching “ARE YOU NOW TELLING ME YOU WON’T PAY FOR MY PHONE ON THE FAMILY PLAN AND I’M ON MY OWN??!!”  My husband forwarded her email to me asking in confusion:  “What did you say to her?”  I replied about the little “I hate being an adult because I have to pay bills every single month, do all the cleaning myself, go to the grocery story and do you have any idea how much tampons cost?” rant she had last weekend.  And THAT was the real issue.  I totally understand that it sucks having to be responsible and grow up.
  • No, Christina.  I will not clean your bathtub.  Even if you offer to pay me.
  • Christina has given up on the custody battle for her dog, Casey.  He lives with us.  Mainly because every time he wants to go outside she has to put on his harness, use the leash and then take him down three flights of stairs outside.  And he wants this done often. And it’s winter.  We have the pet door.  We win.



Because it’s all about the pets, ’bout the pets, here’s pictures:

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERASomeone needs to tell Boca that his ass is too big for the box. But it isn’t going to be me.  He is being a huge scary brat because he can’t go outside and hunt due to all the snow and cold weather.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERACasey hates the vacuum.  And I moved the big dog bed.  He doesn’t care.  I think he feels safe.  Until I pull on the vacuum cord.

AbbeyThis is Abbey saying “I don’t care what time it is, it’s a Saturday and I want to sleep in!”  (Actually, that is me talking – Abbey is just channeling the same sentiment because she is my dog.  Okay let me clarify that – as long as she has been fed that is).

Baby Dog Bed

Now, I really think Dora dog is wondering why she got the crappy bed that is too small for her and the baby gets the nice big one…

My Cat needs an Intervention

Yes, that is a picture of Boca on an animal behavior pamphlet I got from the vet.  Boca needs some serious help.  Now, I know that cats are natural predators but Boca has taken this to an extreme level.  And frankly, I am getting tired of all the blood.


His latest escapade involves a family of baby bunnies.


Yes, those teeny tiny cute little furry harmless creatures that come out in the spring to begin their new life.  Except they picked the wrong backyard because our cat sees them as his own personal toys.  That he eats.

For some reason, Boca does all his killing in the downstairs bathroom.  So we have to check it periodically to make sure nothing bad has happened.  That’s when I came across the baby bunnies.  I will refrain from describing the scene and we did save one bunny that we dropped off far far away from our house.

Usually it is my son who has the job of cleaning up the mess as we admonish Boca:


I mean, it isn’t like he doesn’t ALWAYS have Meow Mix to eat and I spend a  fortune on those stupid little cans of cat food with names like Tuna Delite, Savory Salmon and Ocean Fish Pate.  (We know he likes the seafood flavors the best).

So now everyone in the house is pissed off at the cat – again.

And don’t even get me started on the whole “Well, if you didn’t have a pet door, this wouldn’t happen.”  Yes.  You are correct. Boca has carte blanche to roam in and out as he pleases.  Because we tried making him an inside cat once when we moved.  His initial response was to make as much noise as possible during the night while we were trying to sleep.  Then he started to terrorize poor little Casey.  The final straw was when he literally stared us down as he sat in the middle of our king size bed and peed.  His ass was thrown out the back door after that.

So maybe now I am thinking we should take him to some behavioral animal therapist.  But I am realistic in knowing how this is all going to ultimately end.  Michael will get pretty much as much money as he wants to clean up the cat mess (price is adjusted based on how gross it is) and Boca will go see a vet-doctor just so he can stare at them, jump on the counter and then pee in their sink.  At least that is what happened last time.

Just so you know he isn’t a total monster, here is a great selfie of Boca and Christina:

Boca Kiss

It was taken right before Boca bit her on the cheek.

Sigh.  Damn Cat.

Cat Peep

Boca cat assumes the peep postion.   Just in time for Easter!

Boca cat assumes the peep postion. Just in time for Easter!

Best New Cat Toy – Ever

This winter is killing me.  Boca-cat is driving everyone crazy.  Since it has been so cold outside with so much snow, he has been forced to spend time indoors. Purchasing $50 bucks worth of new cat toys has not helped the situation. And even worse is that he doesn’t want to pee in the snow.  I mean, I wouldn’t either (although for the record the dogs do not seem to have an issue) but this whole cat litter box thing is just not working out.

And Boca is fastidious about his damn litter box.

He expects that his litter box will be cleaned out daily.  I tried to negotiate with him on this schedule, but his direct response to this was to pee on my dirty laundry that was sitting on the laundry room floor.  Which meant I had to do this:


So he won that one.  His new cat toys bored him after all the feathers and strings were quickly pulled off.  Toys are simply no match for his teeth and sharp claws.

Last night, my husband had some dental floss in the living room.  Boca immediately became quite interested in this long, white spool of a potential new cat toy. So we didn’t disappoint.  And we also discovered it is a GREAT cat toy. Because Boca couldn’t catch it – no matter how hard he tried with both claws and teeth.  Over and over that string just flossed right through his attempts to capture it.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI can’t describe the feeling of FINALLY having something over the cat.  It was pure pleasure to see him so pissed off and there was nothing he could do to catch that floss. It just slid away from him time after time.

And as an extra bonus, he had minty fresh breath the rest of the day!

Don’t judge me – I bet you do this, too

  • I stopped up the toilet in our master bedroom by using too much toilet paper.  So I used the kitchen bath until my husband used it so he had to unplug it. 
  • When my phone alarm goes off in the morning, I reach over and keep trying to turn  off my container of tic tacs.  I really should either eat the damn things or throw them away.
  • I went ape shit crazy on my kids when I saw how dirty their toilet was in the upstairs bathroom.  I am not kidding; I told them both to move out if they couldn’t property clean a toilet.  They immediately cleaned it.  (Correction – my daughter immediately cleaned it.  Because I don’t want to hear her bitch at me later when she reads this).
  • I can’t sleep so I get up at 3:00 am and put laundry away.  And then start dusting.  So my dog gets up and tells me it is time to eat.  I don’t want to argue with her so I go back to bed.  I have never heard such a desolate sigh from a dog when she discovered we weren’t cooking.
  • I turn on the electric heater because the air conditioner is blowing on me while watching TV.  And then I totally deny that I am using it when someone says anything.
  • I constantly tell the cat that I am not his private doorman as I open the patio door to let him in or out for the 13th time.   We both know I am lying.
  • “LOOK AT THOSE FEET!” now equals your ass is getting a bath when our Yorkie comes in from romping outside in the mud. He now knows what it means and runs and hides.  And I do agree that it isn’t fair that my dog only gets her feet sprayed with the outside hose because she won’t fit in the kitchen sink.
  • I always order the Berry Almond Chicken salad and medium tea from Wendy’s. One day I decided to go with a Baja salad instead.  When I got back home, I had a Berry Almond Chicken salad.  Is it sad that they know me that well?