Thursday, February 25, 2010


Look who has a new roommate!

Due to some complicated family disasters, I have been given the OK to welcome pets into my apartment! Soooo . . . everyone meet Emily, the cat I've had since I was 14. Which makes her a dottering old woman in cat years. Like Carol Channing.

Actually, Em is a lot like Carol Channing. She's always had this aura of raggedy-ness to her, like we just pulled her out of a dumpster -- even though she's been a pampered indoor cat since kittenhood. Apparently, you can take the kitty out of the derelict house in Revere, but you can't take the derelict house in Revere out of the cat.

She's also totally wacky and acts like a dog. She comes dutifully when called, but only if you say her name in this high pitched sing-song voice "Eeeeemmmmmmilllllllieeeee!"

I suspect Emily was the runt of the litter, and never quite got the hang of basic cat behavior. She has shitty balance. She will take five minutes to psych herself up for the epic leap from sofa to floor. She never quite got the hang of the cat tongue-bath, either. Instead of finding a discreet corner and grooming herself, she'll crawl into your lap, lick your hand, and then rub herself against it. This is either incredibly lazy or incredibly brilliant.

Emily is also skinny as a crackwhore, dispite the fact that she loves to eat, and will often eat so fast that she pukes. The only way I was able to lure her out from under a chair yesterday was with the promise of yummies:

I was a little afraid that the move to the big city would be traumatic for a cat who has only the left the confines of my parents' house a few times in her entire life. But she is adjusting rather well, and is slowly starting to explore . . .

Even she is horrified by the condition of my ancient kitchen floor.

Emily and I share a mutual love of watching TV, so that's what we did for much of yesterday:

"That Dr. Phil is full of shit! Put on Tyra!"

"And get that camera out of my face, bitch!"

And while I'm still paranoid that the apartment is not totally cat-proofed, we seem to be settling in nicely here! And now, when I'm talking out loud to myself or the TV, its like I'm ostensibly talking to Em.

Meow meow meow meow meow meow!


  1. Emily sounds like the perfect roommate! And really, who isn't charmed by Carol Channing?!

    Idiots, that's who.

  2. Awwww! Fuzzy!!!! (meanwhile, my fuzzy is loudly announcing that she's used the litterbox and would like some praise/treats. Sorry, Birch, at almost 3 years old, you're old enough to not need litterbox treats)