WHY I AM MISERABLE AT BEING ORGANIZED AND SUCCESSFUL: A story with CATS

Lucy aka "Boogalu"

In this post I will digress a bit. Last night I had the most ridiculously stupid and hilarious conversation with my boyfriend about our cats. It was totally random. And after this conversation I realized it was more evidence of how completely whacked out my brain is and probably a huge contributor to why my mothering and housekeeping skills are so wanting.

First I should give you some background information. We have 3 cats. And we often have conversations on their behalf. Each has a distinct voice and personality.

First is Lucy. She is nearly 17 years old and has been with me from kittenhood. This cat is getting very cuddly in her old age, but when my kids were little she hated them with a passion. She also never is fond of female cats, but will warm up to male ones, when she feels like it. She is very no nonsense and demanding, but sweet as can be too. She talks very straight forward and sounds a bit, I guess, like a truck stop waitress.

Pixie aka "Zoom Zoom Kitty"

Then we have Pixie. The Man adopted her already full grown so we don't know her exact age. She is probably 13 or 14. Pixie is very tiny and timid. She was declawed before he adopted her and she hates to have her feet touched. She did not know how to be a cat until my cats came around. She sometimes would play with her crinkle ball, but that was about it. She hated my cats at first and still barely tolerates Lucy. But she has found Winkie (the male) to be quite fun and chases him around a lot. And she has started to imitate his cuter behaviors. Mostly she keeps to herself, but if one of the other cats wants food when she is already eating she will give them a good old fashioned smack down. When Pixie talks it is very sweet and quiet, if somewhat indignant at times.

Winkie aka "Captain Fluffytail"

Finally there is Winkie. He is a black and white Maine Coon who is almost 4. I adopted him with his sister Tinkerbell who is not longer with us. I had not planned to adopt more than one kitty, but suddenly there was a fluffy tiny kitty rubbing against my foot. I picked him up and gasped in horror. He was missing an eye and I thought something had just happened. Nope, he was born that way. The one-eyed runt of the litter who started purring like mad the second I picked him up. Oh, you better believe I had to take him too. He is no longer a runt. As he neared 25 pounds we put him on a diet and he is now down to around 20. Still huge, but hopefully more healthy.  We tell people he is so big because he is just so full of love. As I type this he just hopped up on my lap purring. We talk for Winkie the most. In fact even my coworkers are familiar with his "voice" since I use it all the time there too. For some reason he sounds a lot like Patrick from Spongebob. I have no idea why and only recently noticed the similarity. We don't think he is stupid, but to us that is just how we think he talks.

So that brings us to the conversation. We were about to go to bed and The Man starts to laugh. I shouldn't have asked what it was about, but I did. He said, "What if the cats really could talk but actually sound nothing like we think they sound? Like, what if Winkie is actually all sophisticated?"

Well, there you go. Now I can't stop thinking about it myself. We spend the next little bit talking with a bit like Mr. Howe meets Mr. Darcy and cracking ourselves up. Then we move on to Pixie and start talking like some ex-con/gang member. Now we really started laughing. This lasted a half hour. What is wrong with me? This is what I spend my time thinking about? No wonder I am not independently wealthy yet.