So, the cat exploded; kitty's first pee disaster, really my own fault for not reading the signs. It felt weird to hand a bag full of peed-on stuff to the dry cleaning lady, privileged, like, here, I've got money, YOU handle this. Not weird bad. Weird exhilarating.
I've always wanted a cat that could talk, not for cuteness, for completely practical reasons. Because I never know what they want. Yes and no would be enough: DO YOU WANT TO GO OUTSIDE OR WHAT. Well I have got the next best thing: Spoons knows how to vote. When I’m unsure whether she's asking for milk or food, I can show her the yellow can and then the purple box, and she will freaking VOTE for one with a nice loud meow. This also works for toys: do you want the cardboard tube or fishnoodle? FISHNOODLE PLEASE! It's amazing. Then I showed her the litterbox and she was like "cool, I’m housebroken now."
And I have never once been able to make her bite her own tail, which is sort of a shame, but her brother more than makes up for it. He... struggles. He repeatedly clonks his head on walls, chairs, and floor. He stays out in the rain. He likes laptime on occasion, but doesn't understand how to work a lap - he slides off and lands on his poor fat ass. Sometimes I toss him a toy and it lands ON him and he doesn’t even notice. We have named him Moose, because that's perfect, but I might always think of him as Bonk.
