Since I work from home, I sometimes feel like my cat is less of a pet and more of an insane office assistant. He likes to help me develop new filing systems by knocking over my painstakingly curated stacks of paper, outline articles by ripping out pages from my reporting notebooks and maintain a work-life balance by sitting on my computer. If I start freaking out about a deadline, George will remind me of the truly important things in life by gnawing on my ankle. Once he leaped into a cabinet and methodically emptied it of all its contents while I was on speakerphone conducting an interview. I was too embarrassed to say “Hey, my cat is destroying my house, can you hold on for a sec?” Transcribing that interview was quite an experience because the recording was interrupted every few minutes by a giant thud.
The doctor told us to switch George to a new dry food that is healthier for kitty kidneys. Like human food, however, healthier also means that it is much less tasty. When I tried to introduce it into George’s bowl, he turned up his nose and refused to eat all evening. Ron and I came up with a new plan:
We dumped both bags of food into these giant jars so George would not be able to smell either of them and are now gradually mixing his new Even Tastier Pellets into the Tasty Pellets (that’s not what the food is really called). I think it’s working. I have to say, I sympathize with George because I’m trying to cut as much sodium and sugar out of my own diet as possible. There are times when I just want to break down and go on a cupcake and salt lick bender.
As a reward, we downloaded a cat game onto my iPad. George was a little curious, but he quickly lost interest. I did capture this cute photo of a tender human-feline bonding moment though:
I’m glad that my cat has such inexpensive tastes, but the sad thing for me is that the box is a) huge and b) says ANDANTE TOILET TISSUE on the side. I mean, I love finding secondhand home furnishings and using repurposed items, but I do have to draw the line somewhere. Ron said that if we ever recycle the box, we’d have to break it down and take it out of the apartment while George is in another room. The thought made us so sad that Boxy is here to stay. Yes, it has a name now—which means it has a soul so we can’t ever throw it away. But as long as George is happy, I am happy (wipes away cat-shaped tear).