The Purr Factory

This is Vega.

For those who don’t know, Vega is our lovable handicapped cat. Owning her was never our intention.  In mid February a co-worker of mine asked me if I would be able to keep Vega for a month or so until she could find a new place to live.  I agreed to take her in because she had previously taken care of Steve Purry and Koopa (my boy cats) when they were babies, and also because I just fucking love cats.  Admittedly, the first few nights we had Vega in our home were an absolute hell.  The boys hated her, and she hated them. They fought constantly, and our bedroom was the site of Cat-Thunderdome 2011.  Ozzie did not take a liking to her. At all.  I dare say he hated her. However, after a week or so, the cats began to tolerate each other, and eventually became best buddies.

To make this long story a little shorter, I will fastforward to mid-March.  It came time for my co-worker to move and take Vega back, but by this point Vega was a part of our family.  Letting her go simply would have been devastating. I mean, look at this cuteness.

Vega is confident in her musicality

Knowing that we would give her a loving home, my co-worker let us keep Vega! Without Vega, we wouldn’t have memories like this one:

Vega folded all my laundry. But couldn't find the matching sock.

May 9th was Vega’s 2nd birthday!

She may look apathetic in the photo, but trust me, she was ready to party! Ozz and I went to the pet store and bought her some birthday treats, including a play cube, advertised as a “crinkle cave.” She immediately loved it because it provided a hiding place, and the bottom of it made a crinkling noise, like a plastic bag would (and she is extremely fond of plastic bags). It was absolutely precious.

"Peek-a-boo!"

Shh. She's sleeping.

The day of her birthday, Vega had thrown up a couple of times, but I wasn’t too concerned because it looked like hairballs. The next day, she again threw up a number of times, and again the day after that. I was becoming increasingly worried about this because not only was she vomiting, but she also wasn’t eating or drinking.  I called the vet and they told me they couldn’t see her until the next day.  That night I had to work, and Ozzie texted me that he noticed a change in her personality and behavior. She was lethargic, withdrawn, and not interested in her usual toys and sleeping spots.  The next morning I took her to the vet and found out that she was running a fever and a bit dehydrated, and they put her on IV fluids. They also prescribed her a medicine to line her stomach and a hairball laxative.  $71  and an hour later we were on our way home.  Not long after we got home, Vega revealed the reason behind her strange sickness: plastic.  She began throwing up plastic bits and tape.  Eventually she threw up red ribbon and the plastic grass from my Easter basket. So yes, Vega basically ate my Easter basket. Though I was not surprised that she ate plastic (after all, she does have an obsession with it), but I was completely shocked with how much she ate! The vomiting continued for another day, and since then we haven’t seen any. I have pictures of the plastic up-chuck, but I will spare you from that image (though it is quite gnarly).  Vega is now a little more energetic, and socializes with us every now and then, but she  is mostly still interested in being alone.  She has been drinking a little water (but only when I put her in front of the bowl), but is still apparently repulsed by food.  Though this is quite worrisome for me, I have hope that soon she will be back to her old self again! I sure do miss her company on the pillow at night.

On a side note, tomorrow morning the boys are getting their balls chopped off! RIP Kitty Balls.

I’m sure you’ve all heard me and Ozzie complain about how horrible my apartment complex is. It’s full of over-privileged college students who have a complete disregard for other human beings. “Sorry idiot college boy, I’m gonna need to you stop shouting outside my door. It’s 3 am and I have to wake up and work a real job so that I can pay to live in this hell hole, unlike you, whose Daddy pays for it.” Party on idiot college boy. I imagine this to be part of the events unfolding in your apartment:

An example of the things that occur at my complex include but are not limited to: dog poop on every surface of grass surrounding the complex, trash left on the staircases and in front of MY door, broken fire extinguisher case, pulling the fire alarm at 2 am, breaking the exit lights (multiple times), stealing my bike seat, attempting to steal my bike (and failing thankfully), stealing the doormats of several apartments, the list goes on and on and on….and on.

So, to get to the original point of this blog post, Saturday night around 1 am,  I pulled into my apartment complex to find the following scenario unfolding:

A girl pulls into the complex before me. She is immediately halted because an idiot boy has parked his idiot truck in the middle of the lot.

Idiot boy: “Hey you stupid bitch. What the fuck are you doing? I’m driving and you can’t drive!!!!”

Girl victim: “What the hell are you talking about? Why are you parked in the middle of the parking lot? I’m trying to get to my apartment.”

Idiot Boy: “Get the fuck outta the way!”

Girl proceeds forward, I pull into a parking space, idiot boy drunkenly parks his car and gets out.

Idiot boy’s friend: (holding an empty handle of vodka) “That bitch can’t drive! ahahahaha!”

Idiot boy: (shouting down to the opposite end of the complex towards the girl) “Learn how to drive you stupid slut! You were probably out fucking all sorts of guys you slut! You can’t drive for shit you cunt! Stupid bitch!!!!!”

Meanwhile, chuckling to myself at the stupidity, I walk into the building and up the stairs, the boys come in afterwards, still drunkenly talking about the “girl who can’t drive for shit.” I hear heels clicking down the pavement, so I know this is about to be good.

Victim girl: “Why were you yelling at me when I pulled in? I was only trying to get my apartment.”

Little does she know that it’s impossible to rationalize with idiot drunk college boy.

Idiot boy: ” ‘ cause you can’t drive for shit. You’re a stupid slut, prolly fucking all sorts of guys tonight!”

Shouts are exchanged, I can’t make them all out. I think the girl walked away, so I went inside my apartment. From inside my apartment I can hear the boys walking up the stairs to the third floor, STILL insulting the innocent girl who was simply trying to go home.

Folks, this is not a rare event. Similar events like this have happened before during my stint as a tenant, and I’m sure once idiot college kids are out for summer it will happen on a regular basis. Anyways, here is a picture of the idiot boy’s truck that I snapped the next morning. I’m thinking about turning him in for being an insult to society.

Okay, rant complete.

Century 21 may be disappointed to find out that there is no such thing as a “tabby dog,” and I certainly would never name a dog “Steve Purry.”

Blogging has never really been something I am interested in doing simply because my stream of consciousness is scattered.

Cat.

Anyways, I’ll give it a shot. All of you are doing it. And bandwagons can be fun, and I need a little bandwagon fun in my life.

Now, can somebody buy me this toy?

I have a dream...