for your VINformation

A picture is worth a thousand words…

UPDATE:

Last month, I entered a photo pf joey into a cutest pet contest.

Apparently, he made it into the semi finals! Of course, I never doubted for a moment that he wouldn’t win, because he is the cutest cat in the whole world, but I digress.

I got this really long and detailed email giving me all this information about buying the $70.00(!) coffee table book!I’m sure they send the same email to everyone…

I can’t find the standings on their website, but there are some grainy photos of former winners… the winner gets $1000.00, so, go and vote again

Original Post:

I entered my photo of Joey into a contest at CutestPetContest.com.

I’m trying to win some really cool prizes including a $100 gift card to Pet Smart & $1,000 cash. I really want to win, and all I need are votes from you gentle readers.

All you have to do is click the pic and vote for my photo. If I get enough votes, I win. It’s that easy! Thank you very much for your vote. I won’t inundate you with requests, I’ll keep you posted if I win. Wish me luck!

Thanks a bunch!

-

…and I wonder why all my clothes are covered in cat hair…

I made a quick stop at Target with my sister where she forced me to buy this "Cat Tie."

I didn’t want to do it, but for only $2.50, I really wasn’t losing all that much and I’d pay $2.50 for an hour of watching Joey try to get the darn thing off, but here’s the thing, he likes it!

He’s still wearing it in fact, two hours after I put it on.

I think the fact that I’m dressing up my cat means I really need a hobby… or a life.

Just a few seconds of my baby giving me kisses…

This poor cat, he hasn’t quite figured out that he’s getting big. The other day, I had the bathroom window open and he jumped up with such force he bounced off the screen and into the bathroom sink. the look on his face was priceless…he’s constantly trying to squeeze into places he used to fit, like in this picture, under the TV cabinet.

I think he was under there for about five minutes before he figured out he had to slide on his side to get out.

The other day I came home from work and found one of the cats had thrown up on my bed – on my freshly washed sheets!

I knew, from where it was situated, that it had to come from Molly ’cause she’s always sleeping on that corner of the bed, but that is neither here nor there. I cleaned it up and changed the sheet, no biggie.

Last night as I was just drifting off to dream-land I heard the familiar – to cat owners at least – yak yak yak of a cat getting ready to leave a gift for its owner to find with his foot upon awaking and sheepishly shuffling to the bathroom.

The problem, it was about to happen on the bed again.

I gently nudged Molly off the bed with my foot before anything came up – I didn’t want to change the sheet again.

What happened next is how I concluded cats are vindictive little beasts.

I had just done the laundry and there were no clothes on the floor, in fact, the apartment was pretty clean, everything in its place except my slippers. I watched this gagging cat march right over to my slippers and threw up directly on both of them.

I mean really, nothing on the floor in the entire apartment except my slippers and that is what she chose to throw-up on, what’s that all about?

Cats are vindictive.

He’s getting so big so fast. I lost most of his kitten pictures so I’m making up for it now…

He just sits behind me and watches everything I do on the computer.

In this picture, he must’ve seen something shocking…

In this one, he’s taking a nap with his new friend Tina Tortellini, she’s stuffed with catnip. He brings her everywhere. I feel like a drug dealer…

Miss Fatty-Girl’s gone.

When I came home from work late Sunday night, she wasn’t there. Callie’s moved on to a better place.

The History:

I’ve had her for eight years; she was a holdover from an ill advised roommate situation in which I got myself involved during my very starving starving-artist early 30’s. The roommate moved out and on but left behind her fat little vomit-machine.

Molly, being an only child with full run of the house for two years, never embraced her older pushy step-sister. She and Molly never got along. Eight years of hissing, spitting and paw swiping followed. She did give me years of joy, but the bond between us was never fully formed and I never felt she my cat. I couldn’t pick her up and cradle her in my arms, she would never let me. She stopped wanting to play years ago and he spent most of her time – even before she got sick – under the bed. Most visitors to my apartment didn’t know I had two cats. She’d purr like a chainsaw when se wanted love, but it always had to be on her terms – but what cat isn’t like that?

When I got back from South America, I noticed Callie had lost weight, I just marked it up to her missing me, but soon noticed she’d also stopped cleaning herself, except for one spot where she had licked down to the skin. Again, I chalked it up to me not being here for three months.

Over the course of the next few months, she kept loosing weight and I noticed I had to clean the litter box – by "clean" I mean empty, wash, dry and refill – every three day because of her excessive urination. No litter could handle the amount of pee that came out of her, and the smell! if the litter wasn’t clean she’d pee on the floor, if the litter was clean she pee on the floor, nothing like stepping in cat pee first thing in the morning in your bare feet.

Online research led me to believe she had Feline Diabetes.

I was planning on taking her to the vet when I got back from Vegas, I know I should’ve taken her sooner, but she didn’t seem to me like she was in any pain so I figured I could wait a little while longer.

I reached out to the Humane Society for help two weeks ago, but they never returned my call. Now, it’s too late.

I can’t help but feel it’s my fault.

I’d been working extra shifts and late at the Duplex to earn cash for the trip, and I wasn’t home to put out fresh water three times a day. I should’ve taken her to the vet sooner. There are so many woulda, shoulda, couldas, so many ways this could’ve gone…you see, I was being selfish, if I’d brought her to the vet and she was diagnosed, I would’ve had put her to sleep, and I didn’t want to do that – if it were Molly, I’d do anything, pay any amount – but Callie, I ever felt she was mine, I was just the human who gave her food.

She will be missed, but not by Molly or Joey, to me, it seems they don’t even realize she’s gone and if I know Molly, she’s probably happier to be the queen of 1R yet again.

Joey likes to roll around in money, like Demi Moore.

As a waiter, it only goes that I usually end up with cash at the end of the night.

If I leave it on my dresser he’ll have it on the floor within seconds.

I just found $20.00 under the dresser and $20.00 under the bed – cleaning can be profitable.

I have no idea how long those two bills have been there or how much money I’ve "lost."

But look at that face, how could I be cross?

After a few hours, I went back to the animal hospital and picked Joey up.

He’s been very quiet all afternoon, in fact, he’s been in the same spot on the chofa* sleeping only get up once to eat a little aside from that the only other time he’s moved is to raise his leg and lick the balls which are no longer there.

I only hope he one day forgives me.

*Chofa – bigger than a chair and a half, smaller than a sofa.

Little Joey is, right now as I type this, having his manhood removed.

I found a great little animal clinic not too far away from my apartment – the vet is a little abrupt, but then again so am I. I was able to get an appointment today and I pick him up this afternoon and it really couldn’t have been sooner, I found out today he’s actually eight months old, not the five months that I thought, and he’s been humping every pillow and blanket fold in the house, it was only a matter of time before he started spraying.

I’ve never owned a boy cat before, I’m hoping the loss of the balls will mellow him out a bit.

He’s only been gone a few hours, but the apartment seems so quiet…

My pretty girl Molly under the tree.

She’s getting older and she’s not as spry as she used to be, but I remember it was all down hill after eleven for me as well.