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My Cat Posey

By on Saturday, May 6, 2017 in Uncategorized | 0 comments

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The Notorious Posamunde

Moral dilemma:  my (elderly, demented and also probably crazy) cat pooped in my son’s tennis shoe. To tell or not to tell?

I opted not to. I cleaned it up and sprayed Febreze in the shoe, hoping for the best.

I had other problems to deal with, namely that the cat ADORES my new desk chair. To the point of obsession. This makes me completely crazy!

Posey makes me completely crazy too. But alas, she had a very hard life before we adopted her right before the 2004 Presidential election. She was found matted, underweight, and roaming the streets, looking pathetically sad like a Dickensian orphan, until we fell for her sweet, pitiful expression and insatiable desire to be petted and took her in.

Boy, did she get lucky. For the past 13 years, I’ve been dealing with a psychologically crazy cat with a myriad of bad behaviors and a predilection for loving only one person in the family (my oldest daughter) and barely tolerating the rest of us…but her saving grace is she’s really cute. And she adores being petted. So she has stayed.

Messy workstation, lovely new chair, cat!

So back to my brand new chair.

At first, I’d be typing away sitting happily in said chair when she would jump up suddenly in a sneak attack and land behind me, scaring me to death. Then she’d settle in for a long nap between my butt and the chair back.

Aw, cute! I thought the first dozen times. But then she began to hog the whole chair. I’d return from getting coffee to find her sprawled out in all her furry glory. Then I’d think, poor thing, I hate to wake her.

So you can probably figure out who rules the roost in our house, yes?

Lately I’ve taken to covering the fabric seat of my chair with a towel to protect it from all the cat hair. And cat spit from when she sneezes.

Finally, the other day, I’d had it. “Posey, one of us has to go. And I’m on deadline!” She didn’t seem to care about that. So I picked her up and sent her on her way.

Off she went, flipping her tail at me. Probably to poop in MY shoes.

By the way…my son did tell me his tennis shoes smelled really fresh 🙂 And I’ll never tell!

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