♪♪ Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes ♪♪

I just realized that it has been about a year since Ex-Boyfriend and I became citizens of Splitsville.  [If my lame joke escapes you, what I am trying to say, is that it has been about a year since we ended our relationship, called it quits, broke-up, etc.] 

This past year, a lot has changed in my life and I can happily say, that most of the change has been overwhelming good.  What has not changed, is Kitten.

He is my rock, my deranged, violent rock.

To his credit, he has dealt with a lot of changes as well.  After the break-up, I made a few lifestyle changes; the main one being that instead of sitting at home taking pictures of and blogging about my cat, I went out.  I made a big effort to reconnect with old friends and to forge new friendships as well.  This meant a lot of long days alone for Kitten.

Then came even bigger changes.  I met a… person? Man-friend? Male-of-Interest? Let’s call him “Furby”. 

This meant someone new in the apartment.  At first I thought Kitten would be unimpressed, especially because the first time Furby met Kitten, he kicked him. NOT HARD, and to be fair, it was because Kitten had started to do his weird humping thing that Elena has already described in such glorious detail for you. 

On top of that, Furby is allergic to cats, meaning that sometimes Kitten would have to wait in the washroom until Furby was gone.  Despite this, Kitten really liked Furby.  Well, he liked Furby as much as Kitten is capable of liking anything, which means he sniffed his shoes and stared at him in a really uncomfortable manner. 

Furby, however, never grew to like Kitten… or so he said.  But one time I caught Furby on his hands and knees trying to role a ball on a string under the bed for Kitten.  Kitten was obviously terrified by this gesture, as he naturally assumed the 1.5 inch ball was coming to murder him.

One time, I was in the kitchen and Furby was in the washroom.  I heard the shower go on for several seconds and then shut-off.  By this point in our more-than-friendship, I was well aware of Furby’s penchant for, how can I put this?  Shit disturbing.  So I immediately yelled, “did you just run the shower when Kitten was in the bathtub?!”

“No,” came the response from the washroom.

But I didn’t trust Furby, so I went looking for Kitten.  And I found him.  Sitting under the table. Dripping wet.

I frantically yelled at Furby, while rushing to grab a towel and blow-dryer, “Don’t ever get them wet!!!” 

(Source)

Okay, so not quite like that. But STILL bad.

Furby's response: "But he was just sitting in there. He wanted it." 

Luckily, Kitten wasn’t that wet and together we were able to dry him.

Aside from being troublemakers out to make my life more difficult, Furby and Kitten have one other glaring trait in common: FUR.

Now I’m not saying that Furby is Yeti, but…

(Source)

The amount of sweeping needing to be done in my apartment essentially doubled.  Sometimes, I would find hybrid hairballs that had taken on a life of their own.  Yes, it was scary.

So, all of this is to say, that though Kitten clearly wants me dead (made obvious by way of his murderous actions – I’ll get to this in more detail later), he has been doing quite well with the changes that I have been subjecting him to.

Or, as well as Kitten can do.

The Storm is Coming

Sandy is on her way.

If you live in Toronto, this means some garbage cans are definitely going to get blown over and umbrella sales are going to skyrocket.  If you are me, this means catching up on laundry (so all of my sweatpants are clean) and making sure all of my favourite TV shows are queued up.  

It also means that I am cooped up inside, forced to study, and therefore driven to the height of my procrastination tactics: Kitten blogging. 

In summary: Kitten is still alive.  His is still a cat.  He is still angry.

His fur has also grown in quite a bit.  

He went from this:

To this (I call it, "Angry Mangy Lamb"):

And is now close to full fur capacity.

Unfortunately, long fur means Kitten needs to be brushed regularly to prevent him from becoming a matted monster.  

Exhibit A:

I will be honest; I hate brushing Kitten and I will put it off as long as possible.  He is mean and he is strong and he has no reservations about clawing and biting my arms to a pulp. 

This is how I usually attempt to brush Kitten:

Luckily, I have a friend who is willing to look past all of this for the betterment of Kitten's hygiene. 

Remember my Kitten-sitter, Elena?  

She is an absolute doll and helps me brush Kitten anytime she comes to visit.  I pin down his little cat arms and cat legs and she brushes his tangled coat like the future of humanity depends on it.  I'm not sure if she does this out of friendship, a feeling that she has some obligation to Kitten as a past-caregiver, or if she has a misguided (and likely unrequited) love for Kitten.  Regardless of her motive, I appreciate the help.

Thanks again Elena, for having the courage I do not. 

In other news, I picked up some cat-tunnel-ball-toy-contraption from the dollar store.  

Kitten liked it for about 30 seconds before he bored with it. 

At first he was all, "Mmmmm balls."

But then he was all, "Tunnel of balls, you are no fun."

I call this one "00-Kitten", because I am witty.

That's all the Kitten blogging I can muster for now.

Wherever you are, I hope the storm passes you safely and the only casualty you suffer is a cosy night in on the couch with a cup of hot tea or cocoa.  As a parting gift, here are some pictures of Kitten looking stoically out the window at the rain. 

Please Stop Biting Me; It Really Hurts

Spring is finally here!

Birds are chirping, trees are just starting to grow leaves again, and everyone is in a great mood.

When I think of spring, this is what I think of:

Image: Property of Disney

Side Note: If you have not seen Bambi, I don't want to talk to you. Last week I tried to explain the concept of being "twitterpated" to two different people, neither of whom had seen the movie. Please remove yourself from under the rock that has become your home, and watch, arguably, the best Disney movie of all time.

For the rest of humanity, I am sure you will agree that this is a pretty accurate description of spring.

Well, not for Kitten.  Kitten has become the spring scrooge.

Not so long ago, my relationship with Kitten went a little like this:

Now, it is like this:

(Source)

Have you ever lived with a Chupacabra lurking somewhere in your home? I have, and it sucks.

Seriously, Kitten has gone nuts. He spends most of the day hiding behind something, one eye peaking out, just waiting for the right moment to attack. I am not going to pretend that Kitten hasn't always been agressive, but his anger has escalated to a whole new level. His outbursts used to be tied to something obvious, like being brushed or having his nails cut. Now things like going to bed and sitting down send him over the edge.

I do, however, think that I have determined the cause of his anger. 

Recently, Kitten has undergone a pretty significant life change; he had no bed to live on or under for a week and a half. And by "he", I mean me, but Kitten still fails to grasp the concept of ownership. Though I guess maybe I also fail to grasp the concept of ownership since, technically, it wasn't my bed either. 

In summary, so as not to bore you with the details of my personal life, Ex-Boyfriend finally moved into a place that did not come furnished and repossessed his bed and dresser, leaving my bedroom a barren wasteland of cat-hair-tumbleweeds and bags of clothing. 

This apparently had a much more significant impact on Kitten than I would have anticipated. The removal of furniture from the bedroom somehow transformed Kitten into some kind of feral monster. It was like the bed was his one true link to domestication and without it, he was lost.

I tried to get a picture or video of him in crazy-mode, but I pretty much had to fend for my life during these breaks with reality.

Though if you look closely, you can tell from his posture that he is in fact ready to defend his new found wilderness (aka the place I once called  my bedroom). 

This position means I am about to hurt you.

The worst part was that I had to sleep on the couch during this transitory stage and Kitten really did not like that. Every time I would go to lie down for the night, Kitten would full-out attack. Like an I-am-going-to-draw-blood-and-make-you-wish-you-never-owned-me type of attack.

My new bed and dresser finally came this past Friday and Kitten definitely seems a little better.

He has slept on the bed with me very peacefully for the past few nights. I am hoping its presence has reminded him of his domestic roots. Please wish me luck.

Kitten Hates Words

Sometimes, Boyfriend and I like to put on some music, have a glass of wine... and play Scrabble.

Boyfriend isn't the best to play Scrabble with -- he is all about the tiny words that fit in with other words,  getting lots of bang for their buck. This strategy completely closes off the board and makes it very difficult for other plays to put words down. Boyfriend will also get crabby if he starts to lose and will sit, sometimes for 20 minutes, trying to find the perfect word to play.

You know who else isn't the best to play Scrabble with? Kitten.

Kitten is illiterate and it really seems to irk him when the literate members of the house decided to play games that involve words.

The last time Boyfriend and I played Scrabble, Kitten decided to join us on the table. At first he sat beside the board, but slowly -- ever so slowly -- he inched his way over, and on to, to the board.

Until this happened.

Action Shot

Kitten had had enough of our book learnin' and wiped off the entire top of the board. Luckily I had taken so many pictures prior to this moment, that we were able to reconstruct everything. From then on, Kitten was scolded any time he got too close.

He wasn't too happy about it.

POTTY TRAINING UPDATE: Boyfriend and I took a trip to Ottawa last weekend, which meant that the potty training had to be put on hold. Since the training litter needs to be cleaned constantly, we had to put down an actual litter box for the time we were gone. It took me a few days to get the training one set back up after we returned, so basically there is nothing new to say about the potty training, except I am expecting some regression in the days to come.

The Rage Within: Part I

I know I have mentioned that Kitten is quite agressive, yet it seems that my posts have generally focused on his clumsiness and peculiarities. To fully capture the true essence of Kitten, I need to demonstrate how brutally agressive Kitten can be. 

Unfortunately, we haven't capture Kitten at his worst on camera. When Kitten goes into a fit of rage, Boyfriend and I are usually too busy fighting over the best hiding spot. To help you visualize a rage infected Kitten, think "28 Days Later."

Rage can be induced by an unwanted brushing or nail clipping or simply a wrong look. Sometimes you don't even know he has been infect and you will be brushing you teeth and the next thing you know your ankles are being bit. I promise I will try to capture a video of Kitten while he is one of these states, but in the mean time, please enjoy this pictures of Kitten trying to bite my arm:

Part II coming soon.