you think you know someone...part 2

The saga continues...

The woman who previously owned my kitties came over to visit them. She brought over paper work from the original owners when they were adopted from the Humane Society). I thought the cats were 3 1/2 years old. According to the paperwork, they will be 7 years old this March. This could actually explain alot...like why Ginger is so fat! She's not 21 in people years, she's almost 49!

I know, I know, you are all thinking I am a crazy cat lady with all these stories...

I'm in the money!

Okay, not really, but I finally got a job! Woohoo! I start on Jan. 31st and it's a great company to work for. Benefits start the day I start and I get to wear jeans to work! Plus, if I hit all green lights, it's only 5 minutes away from my apartment. It's nice to finally have that soap opera done, at least for now. God provides in His time, I just need to contantly remind myself of that!

you think you know someone...

I got a call the other day from the woman who owned my cats previously. She wanted to know how they are doing. She asked, "So, what did you end up naming them?" I said, "I kept their names the same, Ginger and Simba." She laughed hysterically and said, "That's not their names!" I was so confused. I said, "Your roommate told me that their names were Simba and Ginger." We both laughed and she explained, "When I got them, their names were Cleo and Leo. I didn't like those names so I changed them to Gin and Juice."

I can see how you could get Ginger from Gin, but Simba from Juice?

I decided to do an experiment. Ginger was in the same room and I called out, "Cleo!" She looked right up at me and meowed as if to say, "yes?"

Kind of explains why they never respond when I call them...that, or they are just being normal cats...

Simba

My cat Simba is a beautiful cat. He is a tannish color with slightly darker stripes. Everyone who meets him thinks he is beautiful.

I thought it would be cute to get him a Simba stuffed animal from the Lion King movie. My mom purchased it for me and I brought it home to him. "Look Simba, it's you," I said and laid the stuffed lion on the bed next to him. I walked out of the room and when I came back a few minutes later, the stuffed Simba was laying on the floor.

I guess the live Simba doesn't like competition, or he is not happy with the representation of himself in the stuffed one.

returns

I bought a little bed for my cats, thinking they would enjoy a soft pillow for the floor. This was especially for Ginger as she like to prop her head up on the legs of tables; I thought this would be a nice alternative. I brought the bed home and they wanted nothing to do with it. I eventually coaxed Ginger to at least sit in it, but she barely fit (she's a portly cat) and she did not like it very much. I left the bed on the floor in the hopes that they would warm up to it.

After a few days, I decided to take the bed back because they were not using it. I put it in a bag and headed back to the store. I approached the returns counter and the lady asked why I was returning it. I said, "My cats didn't like it." She asked, "Did they use it?" I answered, "one of them sat in it for a minute but that was it." She said, "It smells," and wrinkled her nose. I just kind of shook my head not knowing why it would smell. She then looked at the tag and asked, "do you know why it's wet?" I picked up the bed and saw that indeed, the bed was wet and had the inmistakable smell of cat pee. I was horrified! I apologized and left the counter with my cat bed in tow.

I got back home and decided to wash it. Maybe they peed on it because they didn't like it or something. So I cleaned it up and it smelled all nice. I put it on the floor hoping one of them would take to it. Neither cat touched it for a while. Then, Simba kind of smells at it and paws at the bottom. He gets in the bed and squats as if ready to relieve himself when I yell, "Stop! Get out of there!" He jumps out and goes to use his other litter box instead.

I've come to the conclusion that Simba is not the smartest cat out there...

the search continues...

So, I have a job interview tomorrow. I want to be excited about it but at the same time I don't want to get my hopes up and then be terribly disappointed when they send me the rejection email. I'm wondering just how much rejection one person can handle! Is there a point where I will receive the rejection that will put me over the edge and I will jump off the observation tower at Sea World? Actually, that wouldn't happen because I'd have to pay $60 just to get in the park and then an additional fee to ride the observation tower elevator. I'll have to find a cheaper way to end it all...

Don't worry, I'm not going to jump from any tall buildings or end my life in any other way. I may go crazy from this job search but it won't put me that far over the edge! I just hope the insane asylum they ship me off to has internet access so I can keep my blog updated...