Caturday 7/6/13


Happy Caturday. Little Weaz reporting for duty.

Little Weaz has actually become Rather Large Weaz in the last few months. I’m not sure how it happened but she got pretty rotund right around the time Joey Donut and Tilly showed up. Stress eating, I assume. So she’s on a diet and hates me.

Ralphie, too. In addition to being on diets, the cats are also being trained to stay off the counter. That’s going really well…

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Tilly is busy acclimating to her new environment (still) and is doing pretty well if you ask me.

She and Ralph took a nap on my bed together last week and I no longer have to keep her separated from the other two. VICTORY.


I’m really proud of the progress she’s made so far and tell her every day that she’s a “good cat doing a good job.” In watching the Cat Whisperer on My Cat from Hell (you bet I watch it), I came to the realization that Tilly is not so much an aggressive cat but instead is just incredibly terrified… of everything. He was working with a problem cat that loved his owner but attacked anyone else who walked in the room. The assumption was that this was an “aggressive” cat trying to protect its owner. The Cat Whisperer, in all his gothic glory, figured out that he was actually a defensive cat scared of everything and trying to protect himself. He just had to be convinced he was safe and his behavior changed dramatically.

In case you are not insane, here is the Cat Whisperer:


That cat’s behavior, I feel like, is totally Tilly. I’m glad I didn’t give up on her in the beginning (because it sounds like everyone else has) and have given her time to settle in and start to feel safe because she is truly a completely different cat than she was two months ago. She just needed some time. And still needs more, to be honest. (She still hates Adam a whole lot.)

She even joined us for 4th of July festivities with a little corn on the cob:


For your viewing pleasure, here is a video (that I’ve watched a thousand times in the last two days) of Tilly eating corn on the cob.

Caturday 6/29/13


I have an idea for a business: OTC medicine delivery service. Seriously though.

This might sound lazy or even extravagant to you until you need to be within a quick sprint’s distance of a toilet. What now, judgeypants? Wish someone would deliver that Pepto to your doorstep now, don’t you?

Four words: OTC medicine delivery service. Or you train your cats to go to CVS.

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I lucked out today because someone has actually agreed to date me long term, which means he got the early morning SOS text for an immediate medicine delivery. (I just want you to know you’re not in love until your significant other brings you anti-diarrheals very early in the morning.)

But what if he wasn’t around? Send Weaz?


Not a chance. She’d come back with Swedish Fish and a Snuggy.

Ralph? No. She only shops Amazon because she believes everything she could ever need is on the Internet.

Joey Donut? Sadly (or happily?), she has moved to her new home. She was adopted last week.


So that leaves me with an option to send Tilly the two-legged cat to Walgreen’s or call an OTC medicine delivery service (that doesn’t exist yet but definitely should).

I called Adam instead.


Caturday 6/22/13


Happy summertime Caturday, the greatest season of them all. Ralph and Weaz and Joey Donut and Tilly can’t wait to go to the beach next weekend. (Oh wait, they weren’t invited…?)

Anyway, I am in what can best be described as a “custody battle” with what can best be described as an “animal hoarder” over a two-legged cat. I won’t even get into the details because I fear fake legal ramifications, but I will go so far as to say: NOT GONNA HAPPEN.

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To be clear, Tilly is available for adoption. (I’m just her foster mom even though I seem to think I gave birth to her.) We’re just going to be very select about where she ends up. If you’re on the East coast (preferably Carolina area but all the way up into New England is doable) and interested in hearing more about Tilly, you can reach out to Halfway There Rescue¬†at to express interest.


Speaking of adoptions… Joey Donut is still up for grabs. The longer I keep this kitten the less likely it is that I will ever let her go. You definitely have to be in Charlotte for this little gem (or within reasonable driving distance) but if you’re interested in her just let me know.


Joey D has settled in nicely with the big cats and seems to think she is one herself. Ralph and Weaz are not terribly amused with the whole situation but are tolerating the whole charade like champs.



I guess I can’t really talk shit about animal hoarders, can I?

Caturday 6/1/13


Happy Caturday from DC. I’m in town for Share Our Strength’s Conference of Leaders to learn about ending childhood hunger in the US (and hopefully meet Ted Allen from Chopped, swoon).

I’m staying at my friend Amber’s apartment and catsitting her cat Tassey who is named after our favorite college bar. Naturally.

As you can perhaps already tell, Tassey is the size of a Mack truck and has seven toes on each hand.

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And he’s a little sensitive about it.


(He’s meowing, not hissing.)

I like Tassey because he talks to me all day just like Weaz. Unlike Weaz he shuts up at night and in the wee hours of the morning, which is ideal. Also Weaz talks about things like sprinkles and unicorns and Tassey prefers to ramble on about Hemmingway.

(See what I did there? Cat people know.)

Anyway, if you think my trip to DC was smooth sailing you’re clearly new here so… Welcome to my life where literally nothing I do is smooth.

My plan to leave on time was thwarted by Joey Donut, who somehow covered herself and my bathroom in poop, thus necessitating a bath on my way out the door.


She is still available for adoption and I can’t imagine why no one wants her. [Eyeroll]

I arrived in DC just five hours past my ETA around 11pm after an impromptu meet up in Staunton, Virginia where my itinerary was sidelined by this cup of Virginia peanut butter and chocolate gelato.


I also had real food in the form of a vegan vegetable stack with eggplant, roasted red peppers and creamed spinach atop a medallion of grits at AVA Restaurant & Wine Bar.


Upon my arrival in DC, I couldn’t find the apartment much less the hidden key to get in it so I spent a solid thirty minutes prowling around the bushes like a murderer. I would not blame Amber’s neighbors for calling the police on me.

This morning I had grand plans to practice at Down Dog Yoga, enjoy a leisurely breakfast and do a lot of nothing. Instead I spent an hour walking in the wrong direction… weighed down with a yoga bag and mat… sweating… and crying… coffee-less.

I swear to you I was moving in sync with the little blue dot on my Google map navigation. I also promise I have lived in and navigated cities bigger than Charlotte and that I am a capable and functioning member of society. Not today, though. Not today.

I did eventually get on a bus (where I got yelled at for not having exact change, of course) and make it to class. Properly sweat-drenched, I rolled over to SweetGreen for a falafel salad and blueberry basil limeade. Sweet redemption.


I’d love to hang out with everyone in town but Barack won’t stop texting me so I guess I gotta go swing by his place and play video games.