, ,

Wow, the same day I throw in the towel on trying to “fit in” in the mommy-blogging scene I find The Feminist Breeder and The Hipster Homemaker and MY HEART IT SOARS WITH GLEE. Seriously, reading these ladies’ blogs and I keep nodding furiously in agreement – and even if I don’t agree entirely with everything – it’s so refreshing to see AHHHHH, THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ‘BOUT! So, thank you ladies for putting it out there.

In other news! My cat! As seen in that photo!

My dearest Wensleydale was my baby from my first marriage. By which I mean, she believes in her tiny feline heart that I personally gave birth to her. I was honestly a bit concerned about what she would think of what I actually gave birth to, but she’s actually very protective of her “brother.”  To the point where she’s been known to scold me when I’m nursing him to make sure I’m doing it right. She spent the first portion of his life “babysitting” him – until he could roll over and try to grab her. Now she sits behind me and supervises the situation from a safer distance.

So, she’s handled the adjustment of a new “cat” pretty well. Quite admirably, in fact.

However, the sad story of Wensleydale’s life – even pre-baby – is that she’s never been loved. Constant complaints made to the Society For Feline Neglect. Daily citations for not meeting the snuggles quota. Which is an INFINITE amount of snuggles so the quota can never actually BE met. Very tricksy, that Wensleydale.

What she hasn’t handled so well has been the move. Our summer was total chaos and one result was that Nuno and I spent a lot of time apart with me in Vermont and him in Providence. Then, he would come and visit in Vermont for a few days and the kitties were cared for by our neighbors, who would have happily contributed snuggles had Wensleydale not been so stubbornly under the bed.

(I say kitties plural, but the other cat? Doesn’t give a shit. Seriously. As long as Nuno is around she ignores everything and everyone else. So, as far as she’s concerned, life is peachy and btw, when am I and the baby moving out and could we get on that ok thnx.)

She hasn’t done well being on her own – even just for a few days at a time. The last straw was the weekend that Nuno and I spent on the beach for my birthday. Even though he came home on Monday evening and provided her with plentious snuggles, she’s had a bit of a breakdown.  Wensleydale has done the cat equivalent of going to the grocery store in her sweatpants: she’s stopped effectively grooming herself.

I feel so bad for my fatty animal. (Who is also, PS, not so fat anymore – which is a GOOD. THING. We were seriously at our wits’ end trying to think of ways to slim down one cat without also starving the one who weighs 5lbs soaking wet. So, we’re totally not complaining about the weight loss.) I do love her to itty bitty kitty pieces, but it’s very hard to provide her with ALL OF THE SNUGGLES while also caring for the baby. Now that he’s a bit bigger and sleeps more, I do my best to provide her with pettins and scritches when I can. Clearly, she’s not feeling it.

The more immediate problem is what to do about these GIANT MATS all over her back. They’ve got to be shaved off and I’m all in favor of taking her to the vet, whereas Nuno apparently sees this as a DIY moment. Of all the things I want to do myself, shaving the cat is right at the bottom of the list next to “unanaesthetized self-lobotomy.” Maybe if I start with the latter the former won’t be so bad.

Which is to say: we’re going to try to shave a cat this weekend.

Gourd help us.