Mommie Dearest

October 15, 2011 Comments Off on Mommie Dearest

I took a big step today towards becoming, if not a crazy cat lady, at least an annoying pet person: I referred to myself as “Mommy” when talking out loud to the kitten. I hate it when people do that. But it’s a completely natural thing to come out of your mouth when you are addressing an arrogant, incorrigible small creature that keeps putting inappropriate things in its mouth.

So here is my new two-cat existence neatly summarized in one word: frustrating. The kitten is a brat. She cannot be fazed by anything at all, which makes disciplining her a chore both for me and for poor YT. Today YT rolled over on her back to be petted and the kitten jumped right on top of her, which is stupidity of a magnitude nearly impossible for me to comprehend. This resulted in YT clamping the kitten’s head between her paws and hissing into her face, and a subsequent beating that actually made Mazurka make a noise—of pain, I assume. Instead of having sympathy for the poor little kitten, I’m ticked off because I bet she won’t even get the hint after this. She is impossible to terrorize, which is too bad because I think she needs nothing right now more than a little traumatizing.

Also, she eats everything, or tries to. Packing tape, yarn bits, screws, onion skins, buttons, coins, you name it. I was taking a bath the other day and she came in and began methodically excavating dust bunnies from under the heater and trying to eat them. That was also where she found the screws.

Whenever I let her out of her room, she goes bouncing around the apartment like a mad thing, chasing YT and ingesting plastic faster than I can take it away from her. She bites a lot, and I’m trying to train her out of it, which is hard because—and I can’t stress this enough—Mazurka is not fazed by anything. Shouting, hissing, snapping, clapping, shutting her in her room, instant cessation of interaction…nothing. My last resort will be a squirt gun, which will go into operation soon. But I am not hopeful. I want to balance the yelling and hissing and clapping with an equal amount of cuddling and miscellaneous lovin’ so she doesn’t think of me as a machine that shouts at her every time she starts to have fun, but damned if she’s not making it really difficult. And, in the time-honored tradition of pet anthropomorphization, I’m worried it’s going to make her turn out surly and evil if I don’t, like a teenager who was beaten as a child.

My feelings about this are way too strong. I’m really worried that Mazurka will turn out mean, and I’m worried that I’m yelling at her too much, and I’m worried because she isn’t getting along with YT, and I’m worried she’ll choke or poison herself, and so on. Especially because I’m home all day with her, I guess I am starting to feel like her mother. But that’s still no excuse for letting myself turn to the dark side. “Mommy,” indeed.


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