That Darn Cat.

This is Sammy.

Sammy is a long-haired tabby cat, whose age is undetermined.  He is at least 15 years old, though.  Sammy came to live with us in December of 2003 (or rather, to live with the Mister, as we were still dating at the time) after Shelby, the Mister’s newly acquired chocolate Lab, escaped out the garage door left open by him or his roommate.  We had gotten her the week before.  The Mister was so upset about her disappearance that for Christmas, his aunt bequeathed Sammy to him.  Sammy originally belonged to the Mister’s cousin, but he had recently moved out of state to an apartment and could no longer keep him.  So that is how we got Sammy.

Sammy and I have had our ups and downs.  When we first got married and lived in our first little house, I hated him.  He puked giant hairball turds all over the hardwood floors and shed like a mofo.  At some point, a switch flipped and I loved him so very much.  I think my biological clock must’ve started ticking or something, because I loved him like a baby.  I would pick him up and snuggle him, he would sleep right beside me in the bed, and he had to be near me all the time.  I loved him so much that at one point when he was sick and not eating or drinking and I thought he would die, we took him (a 15-year old cat) to the emergency vet and ended up spending $600 to unclog his butt plumbing.  And when he pooped on the vet’s exam table the next day, I was so happy I could have danced a jig right there.  He has ended up costing us several hundred more dollars over the past few years, but I gladly paid because I loved him so.

That love lasted until I was about 25 weeks pregnant.  Around that time, we had new hardwood floors put in our house.  They are a beautiful dark walnut, and I was so happy to have that tired carpet ripped out.  And then Sammy puked on them.  At that moment, the switch that flipped the love on turned off, and I have harbored feelings ranging from cold indifference to violent hatred for Sammy.  Now that I have a toddler walking around?  Hate.  Blinding hate.

Reasons I hate Sammy:

1.  He still pukes everywhere.  Yes, I know that’s par for the course for long-haired cats, but it is still annoying.  He pukes hair, he pukes food, and sometimes he pukes bile just for the heck of it. All over the house.  On the wood floors, on the carpet, in the bathroom, on the stairs, no floor surface is safe from cat puke.

2.  He pees on the kitchen floor a lot.  There is no reason for him to do this.  He does it out of spite.  We have taken him to the vet to have him checked out for urinary tract infections and other ailments that may cause this behavior.  He is perfectly healthy.  He has a clean litter box that he still poops in.  He is just a crotchety old man that likes to piss me off by peeing on the kitchen floor.  So that means I have to mop at least once a day, and sometimes more than that.

3.  He pees on the baby’s stuff.  Sammy and the baby do not get along.  Or rather, Sammy hates the baby.  CJ loves Sammy and wants to show him affection, but Sammy is having none of it.  Last Saturday he swatted CJ in the face just for standing too close to him.  I thought the Mister was going to throw him against the wall.  I understand protecting yourself when you’re threatened, but the kid was just standing there looking at him.  Today we set up a foam mat in the playroom.  While I was upstairs taking a nap with CJ, Sammy peed on the mat.  His litter box was literally 10 feet away in the bathroom downstairs.  And even if he didn’t want to go in the litter box, why couldn’t he just go upstairs and pee on the kitchen floor?  I’d rather him do that than piss on something my child plays on.  But he did it just to show me that he does not like the child.

4.  He covers the house in hair.  ‘Nuff said.

I realize that his world was turned upside down when I brought home that baby.  I have tried to show him the same amount of affection that I did previously, even though he makes that exceedingly difficult by exhibiting such douchebag behavior.  Things have changed for him, and he is not pleased about it.  I get that.  But what he needs to get through his stupid head is that HE IS EXPENDABLE.  The child is not.  So if I were him, I would start behaving myself before he goes back to being an outside cat.  Winter’s coming, and he’s led a pretty charmed life in our house.

I’m not going to get rid of him, because when we take in animals we realize they are lifetime commitments and they will live with us until they pass away.  And I feel bad for hating the cat so much.  I really do.  He’s an okay cat when he’s not hating on CJ.  I just want him to use the litter box I have provided for him.  It’s clean.  It’s roomy.  It’s in a private location.  If he would just stop peeing and puking all over the house, life would be so much better for all parties involved.

Sigh.  How long do cats usually live?

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