Chian the Psychic Wonder Cat
I'm being plagued. My cat just won't leave me alone. You see, there is no fooling Chian about ANYTHING. I know some of you will think I'm crazy, but it's just a fact. I have a 13 yr old cat who knows way more than a cat should, and he's always been like this. My cat has plagued me for the last four to five weeks, saving the week the ex had him while we were at the family reunion because...I became moody and depressed when Alex started having problems with his visa. He's concerned, so he follows me EVERYWHERE. I go to the bathroom, he lies on my feet. I shit you not. I get up, I head to the kitchen, and unless it's 7a and feeding time, he's not even meowing for food. I lay on the couch; he leaps up and doesn't even aim for my bladder, which is what he does to me when I'm my normal self. He's just there to curl up and place a paw on me protectively. I wake up with a tail in my mouth because he's curled up on the pillow next to me. Usually he's at my feet, but the pillow maneuver he saves for my worst moods.
I long ago faced the fact that my cat is not a cat. I've had four cats in my life, and only two of them were actually "cats." Besides Chian the Psychic Wonder Cat, I had Scruffy the Grouchy Old Man. Scruffy was a bit odd too, but that's another post. Anyway, Chian walked up to my door as a skinny adolescent tabby cat in January of '93. His age is actually an estimate. He was suckering me and my ex, along with about five other people in the apartment complex out of food. I already had two cats. I was NOT going to become the cat lady, damnit, so I tried to find him a good home. I had PROMISED the ex when we got the second cat: I only want two cats. We won't get more. And I meant it. I really, really did. Oddly, it was the ex who decided that Chian should be kept as ours and we needed a third cat. He doesn't like cats that much, so I always was amazed by that decision.
Poor Chian. "Welcome to the family! *snip*" With neutering and his shots, sponsored by my friend Tess who desperately wanted to adopt the charming cat but was/still is allergic to cats, Chian became ours. Chian had a certain life and personality that most people can't attain, let alone a cat. But, he really didn't do anything wierd until he had been with us for a while. Unless you want to count the time he grabbed a cream filled, chocolate covered krispy kreme doughnut from my hand and ran off with it, putting a paw on it and growling as he tore at it. That surprised me because cats aren't supposed to go nuts over sugar. I mean, some like ice cream, but that's because of the dairy.
He started to get keyed in to my moods. I realized that if I were sick, he was with me constantly. If I were sad, he was with me constantly. And if I were in a regular mood, he just went off and did cat things.
Right away, the oddest thing I'd say he did was never leave my side when I took a bath instead of a shower. It wasn't often, but he'd perch up on the bathtub and watch me. If I had the nerve to scare him and put my head UNDER the water, I'd have a wet cat paw tap tap tap on my head until I came back up.
Also, before we really adopted him and he was still hanging outside all the time, he would follow us wherever we went when we went for a walk. Even when we walked along the river in the back of the complex. On rocks. HOPPING from rock to rock. Over water. Cats aren't supposed to enjoy water...
My cat knew I was pregnant, both times, before I did. No really. Only twice in his life has he done this odd thing, and both times within a few days I found out I was pregnant afterwards. Basically, he came up, sprawled out next to me, and started patting my tummy with his paw. Pat pat pat. Then after I stared at him and said, what the hell are you doing? he basically just LEFT his paw there for a while until I got up to go do something.
My daughter Ariana had colic for the first three months of her life. She'd cry just about every waking hour during that time. It was awful. She'd start up her shrieking wail, the other two cats would tear up the stairs and hide under the bed...the ex and I would look at them jealously...and there would be Chian, meowing at my feet. I would pace, walking Ari back and forth, and there he'd be pacing with me, meowing. I'd sit on the sofa and he'd leap up and sit on the arm of the sofa, reaching over to meow and pat pat pat Ari's shoulder, settling a paw on her until she finally passed out cold and slept.
He used to sleep at her door regularly every night too. Guard cat, I guess.
Scruffy used to have the prime location of sleeping with Kira in her bed, though, until he died in August of 2001. That's when Chian seemed to step up his other senses...almost as if now that Scruffy died, his job duties had expanded. From that point on, if he felt I were out of it, boom, there's my cat, on the pillow. Again, that's how I know he feels I'm worse off...he goes on the pillow instead of at my feet or side.
It'd be so easy to map out depression issues for a therapist or doctor. "Well, see, Chian sprawled out on my pillow during the weekdays when Alex was gone--he was coming up on the weekends from school-- for the two to three weeks around my divorce hearing. Oh, and he was on my pillow for about three weeks while Alex had the first visa issue with his student visa. Hmmm....yeah, and the two months after I moved in to the apartment after moving out, he was on the pillow. But really, it's not been consistent since I lived in the house, and during the last year or so there I couldn't pry him off the damn pillow with a crowbar."
I pretend I'm doing fine because if I'm really upset, I don't want to talk about it. Sort of upset, you hear every last painful detail: really upset, my lips are sealed. But I can't fool the fucking cat.
He's lying on my feet right now, asleep. Snoring. Damned bastard!
Last night I was feeling extra broody because Sunday was rough with the ex, and then yesterday I decided I really had to just go ahead and get my next pill pack for $45 (note: OUCH). I was trying to figure out if I had enough for gas, birth control pills, and food for the rest of the month per what I budgeted out, and then I decided I could swing it. I get mad paying for the pill when I'm not getting laid. It's like walking in, paying for the all you can eat buffet, and walking out without taking a bite. What the hell good is THAT? I always liken the pill to the all you can eat buffet because...oh god, here I go showing you my OCD issues...if I use condoms, I actually THINK about the fact that each condom costs money, and I decide if it's worth it. Plus, I don't like a plastic baggie up my crotch. If I wanted that, I'd buy a bunch of ziploc bags and throw them on my vibrator. I prefer the pill. Alex gets killed with the pill, however, because then my attitude is just like my attitude with the all you can eat buffets: I've already paid for all I can eat, damnit, so I'm gonna gorge until I burst!
Hmmm where the hell was I? Oh yes, money. Buying pills. So, I figure it out and I realize it'll be ok, and I get a pint of haagen daz too (my pharmacist is inside my grocery). I also purchase some chocolate covered sugar cookies. I figure those two items would be good to self-medicate my depression. I brood some more about Alex not being here, and then I start brooding--as I walk to the mailbox--about the fact that tomorrow (which is now today...god, now I sound like Jared...)I leave to drive up for three days to Raleigh to help my brother move. I love my brother endlessly. I am very happy to help him. However--go ahead, think I'm petty if you like, but I can't help being human--it's sorta depressing helping your brother move his leather sofa and beautiful artwork into a 5200 sq foot house when you've just sat around contemplating if you can afford your $45 birth control pill pack that day. And then I open up the mailbox and find that Chian is due for his annual checkup...aw, fuck. $60 more. Damnit.
I go back into the house, and there is the cat, meowing at the door waiting for me. He follows me around. I try to use the bathroom. He lies on my feet again. Arg!
SO, by the time I torture Alex last night by manipulating him to stay up til his time, 6a, because I'm moody and want company on the computer, there's Chian on my feet again. Sprawled out. Snoring. When I went to bed at midnight, he yawns, stretches, follows me to the bedroom. We both take a pee. I flush; he burries. We go to bed. He doesn't go to the pillow right away this time...first he presses up against my chest and puts his cat head ON my head. What the fuck is he doing? I wonder. I feel his purr vibrate against me. I plop an arm around him...he's fat, so this isn't so hard to do...and I realize suddenly: the damned cat knows I miss Alex in my bed so he's trying to stretch out against my chest and put his head near mine like if Alex were in my bed! Shit. Chian the Psychic Wonder Cat, I tell you. He's irreplacable. My last cat, my only pet, and there's just NO way I can find another anywhere half as great as this one.
Guess I'd better pack up my bag and shower and start getting ready to drive to Raleigh! Well, if I can move this cat off my feet...
I long ago faced the fact that my cat is not a cat. I've had four cats in my life, and only two of them were actually "cats." Besides Chian the Psychic Wonder Cat, I had Scruffy the Grouchy Old Man. Scruffy was a bit odd too, but that's another post. Anyway, Chian walked up to my door as a skinny adolescent tabby cat in January of '93. His age is actually an estimate. He was suckering me and my ex, along with about five other people in the apartment complex out of food. I already had two cats. I was NOT going to become the cat lady, damnit, so I tried to find him a good home. I had PROMISED the ex when we got the second cat: I only want two cats. We won't get more. And I meant it. I really, really did. Oddly, it was the ex who decided that Chian should be kept as ours and we needed a third cat. He doesn't like cats that much, so I always was amazed by that decision.
Poor Chian. "Welcome to the family! *snip*" With neutering and his shots, sponsored by my friend Tess who desperately wanted to adopt the charming cat but was/still is allergic to cats, Chian became ours. Chian had a certain life and personality that most people can't attain, let alone a cat. But, he really didn't do anything wierd until he had been with us for a while. Unless you want to count the time he grabbed a cream filled, chocolate covered krispy kreme doughnut from my hand and ran off with it, putting a paw on it and growling as he tore at it. That surprised me because cats aren't supposed to go nuts over sugar. I mean, some like ice cream, but that's because of the dairy.
He started to get keyed in to my moods. I realized that if I were sick, he was with me constantly. If I were sad, he was with me constantly. And if I were in a regular mood, he just went off and did cat things.
Right away, the oddest thing I'd say he did was never leave my side when I took a bath instead of a shower. It wasn't often, but he'd perch up on the bathtub and watch me. If I had the nerve to scare him and put my head UNDER the water, I'd have a wet cat paw tap tap tap on my head until I came back up.
Also, before we really adopted him and he was still hanging outside all the time, he would follow us wherever we went when we went for a walk. Even when we walked along the river in the back of the complex. On rocks. HOPPING from rock to rock. Over water. Cats aren't supposed to enjoy water...
My cat knew I was pregnant, both times, before I did. No really. Only twice in his life has he done this odd thing, and both times within a few days I found out I was pregnant afterwards. Basically, he came up, sprawled out next to me, and started patting my tummy with his paw. Pat pat pat. Then after I stared at him and said, what the hell are you doing? he basically just LEFT his paw there for a while until I got up to go do something.
My daughter Ariana had colic for the first three months of her life. She'd cry just about every waking hour during that time. It was awful. She'd start up her shrieking wail, the other two cats would tear up the stairs and hide under the bed...the ex and I would look at them jealously...and there would be Chian, meowing at my feet. I would pace, walking Ari back and forth, and there he'd be pacing with me, meowing. I'd sit on the sofa and he'd leap up and sit on the arm of the sofa, reaching over to meow and pat pat pat Ari's shoulder, settling a paw on her until she finally passed out cold and slept.
He used to sleep at her door regularly every night too. Guard cat, I guess.
Scruffy used to have the prime location of sleeping with Kira in her bed, though, until he died in August of 2001. That's when Chian seemed to step up his other senses...almost as if now that Scruffy died, his job duties had expanded. From that point on, if he felt I were out of it, boom, there's my cat, on the pillow. Again, that's how I know he feels I'm worse off...he goes on the pillow instead of at my feet or side.
It'd be so easy to map out depression issues for a therapist or doctor. "Well, see, Chian sprawled out on my pillow during the weekdays when Alex was gone--he was coming up on the weekends from school-- for the two to three weeks around my divorce hearing. Oh, and he was on my pillow for about three weeks while Alex had the first visa issue with his student visa. Hmmm....yeah, and the two months after I moved in to the apartment after moving out, he was on the pillow. But really, it's not been consistent since I lived in the house, and during the last year or so there I couldn't pry him off the damn pillow with a crowbar."
I pretend I'm doing fine because if I'm really upset, I don't want to talk about it. Sort of upset, you hear every last painful detail: really upset, my lips are sealed. But I can't fool the fucking cat.
He's lying on my feet right now, asleep. Snoring. Damned bastard!
Last night I was feeling extra broody because Sunday was rough with the ex, and then yesterday I decided I really had to just go ahead and get my next pill pack for $45 (note: OUCH). I was trying to figure out if I had enough for gas, birth control pills, and food for the rest of the month per what I budgeted out, and then I decided I could swing it. I get mad paying for the pill when I'm not getting laid. It's like walking in, paying for the all you can eat buffet, and walking out without taking a bite. What the hell good is THAT? I always liken the pill to the all you can eat buffet because...oh god, here I go showing you my OCD issues...if I use condoms, I actually THINK about the fact that each condom costs money, and I decide if it's worth it. Plus, I don't like a plastic baggie up my crotch. If I wanted that, I'd buy a bunch of ziploc bags and throw them on my vibrator. I prefer the pill. Alex gets killed with the pill, however, because then my attitude is just like my attitude with the all you can eat buffets: I've already paid for all I can eat, damnit, so I'm gonna gorge until I burst!
Hmmm where the hell was I? Oh yes, money. Buying pills. So, I figure it out and I realize it'll be ok, and I get a pint of haagen daz too (my pharmacist is inside my grocery). I also purchase some chocolate covered sugar cookies. I figure those two items would be good to self-medicate my depression. I brood some more about Alex not being here, and then I start brooding--as I walk to the mailbox--about the fact that tomorrow (which is now today...god, now I sound like Jared...)I leave to drive up for three days to Raleigh to help my brother move. I love my brother endlessly. I am very happy to help him. However--go ahead, think I'm petty if you like, but I can't help being human--it's sorta depressing helping your brother move his leather sofa and beautiful artwork into a 5200 sq foot house when you've just sat around contemplating if you can afford your $45 birth control pill pack that day. And then I open up the mailbox and find that Chian is due for his annual checkup...aw, fuck. $60 more. Damnit.
I go back into the house, and there is the cat, meowing at the door waiting for me. He follows me around. I try to use the bathroom. He lies on my feet again. Arg!
SO, by the time I torture Alex last night by manipulating him to stay up til his time, 6a, because I'm moody and want company on the computer, there's Chian on my feet again. Sprawled out. Snoring. When I went to bed at midnight, he yawns, stretches, follows me to the bedroom. We both take a pee. I flush; he burries. We go to bed. He doesn't go to the pillow right away this time...first he presses up against my chest and puts his cat head ON my head. What the fuck is he doing? I wonder. I feel his purr vibrate against me. I plop an arm around him...he's fat, so this isn't so hard to do...and I realize suddenly: the damned cat knows I miss Alex in my bed so he's trying to stretch out against my chest and put his head near mine like if Alex were in my bed! Shit. Chian the Psychic Wonder Cat, I tell you. He's irreplacable. My last cat, my only pet, and there's just NO way I can find another anywhere half as great as this one.
Guess I'd better pack up my bag and shower and start getting ready to drive to Raleigh! Well, if I can move this cat off my feet...
posted by Kira | 3:06 AM
8 Comments:
What I'm going to recommend is actually a kids' book, but I think you'll love it anyway. In fact, I kind of bet you've already seen it: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0060279699/qid%3D968505003/sr%3D1-26/102-8327724-2512120. Jean Craighead George is great!
Raven sleeps on the pillow above my head, and now Smoky has started sleeping on my feet. This makes tossing and turning very complicated.
I hope I get to meet Chian soon - he sounds like a great cat!
I love your cat! My Timone is like that with my moods. I can tell I'm too cranky when he wants out so badly he stands up and baps at the door knob.
A little on my cats here - http://forwardho.blogspot.com/2005/07/much-ado-about-mulching.html
I had a cat like that. Her name was Cuddles. She was awesome. She'd eat popcorn. We'd take her for walks in the park and she'd follow us. Cuddles met an untimely end. I've had several cats since, but none of them were remotely like her. I've stopped trying.
Okay, being a dog owner and a slut, I ignored all the cat stuff and zeroed right in on your commenta about the pill. Just between you and me (I wouldn't want anyone ELSE to know this!!), I've been using the patch for nearly two years now. Soon after I got divorced, I had my annual check-up and birth control seemed like the responsible and proactive thing to do. (Proactive, since I wasn't getting any at that time...didn't even have any remote possibilities out there!) So during that two years, there have been maybe a few months of any sort of activity for which the patch would be useful. Last time I went for my check-up, the nurse asked me the standard questions. "Do you smoke? Do you drink? Are you taking any other drugs?" I answered, "no...no...no..." For good measure, since it seemed almost like she was fishing for vices, I added: "I'm not having sex either. I just keep wearing the patch because it makes my boobs a little bigger and I need all the help I can get!" She found that quite humorous. I wasn't feeling very humorous. Something about never getting laid leaves a person feeling a bit cranky, you know??
;-)
I am so NOT a fan of cats but seriously, that's too effing cute. Chain sounds like a sweetheart.
*sniff sniff*
I want a pet!!!
Funny enough, my own cat moon has been incredibly affectionate during the last few weeks. For one, she follows me everywhere, and second, she purrs, begs to b stroked, jumps on my lap, rubs against me…
This may seem nice, but unlike many other cats I have know (Moon is my mother’s cat, not my own) such Chian, she is terribly annoying and a royal pain in the ass.
I love cats but I dare anyone to put up with her consistent meow of slow death ;)
Maybe Moon can sense that you're about to come back to the U.S., Alex, and she's just trying to get lots of extra attn from you before you leave. =o)
Amanda--HAHA! I never thought of that, but you're right...if Chian learned to talk, I'm screwed too!
Angie--that book looks really cute! My kids would probably love it. I might have to get it sometime. And Alex's family's cat Moon probably knows he can get the most attention out of Alex than the rest of them...either that or she knows he's moody too! I wish his mom would get her spayed and be responsible. She's a purebred who is now done having kittens, and she goes into heat all the time and YOWLS and YOWLS.
Valerie--thanks for the link! I read it and commented on it.
Laura--that's what I am afraid of. I've had four, and I've already lucked out and had TWO non cat cats who were amazing...I am just wondering if I could ever be lucky enough to get a third!
Mandy! That's hilarious, and the full post on your site about it is great! haha!
AA--well, there's enough room on Chian's pedestal for more great cats, no worries! haha!
Ikatron--see, that's what I'm talking about...sometimes they just seem to KNOW! People always think it's just dogs that does that sort of stuff, but cats do it too.
A*--I used to be a vet tech so I never understood the cats suck or dogs suck mentality (although I DO understand preferring one over the other). You tell me what you prefer in a pet, and unless you want one that can sing the star spangled banner, I can find a cat or a dog that has the same traits. My brother Mark, who does NOT like cats either, has decided my cat is great because...get this...he's really a dog. haha! That being said, I bet Hof wouldn't want a cat (unless you got one of those cat strollers? haha!), so maybe stick with dogs! :)
Darling Alex--Moon is the ONLY cat that my beloved son has labled annoying. The boy likes to PRETEND he's a cat and loves cats, and there he was in France sighing at me saying, mommy, that cat is just plain annoying...haha! It's not Moon's fault though. She just needs to get spayed!
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