My Cat and Home Improvement Advice - Deprived on Sleep

My cat doesn't actually give me home improvement advice. To clarify, my cat doesn't give me any kind of advice except that Fancy Feast should be shoveled by the truckload into his gaping mouth, 24 hours a day. The home improvement will come later, but first I want to talk about how my cat is a smug asshole.

I should preface this entire entry by saying that I have been actively obsessed with this cat for 12 years, going on 13, and he is the only thing or being in this world whom I love unconditionally. Just in case you can't understand satire!

Shadow has of course relocated with us to the new place, which he has taken to with a lot more enthusiasm than the last place. In the old place, due to the round-the-clock noise and bustling bustleness of the old 'hood, Shadow barely emerged from under the bed or equivalent hiding spot unless it was one of his two daily feedings.

Now, he's strutting around like he owns the place, like he's fucking Jabba the Hutt and we are to fulfill his every whim or he'll feed us to the Rancor in the secret basement.



Pictured: Shadow the Hutt on his moving platform (aka My Lap), and his slavegirl awaiting orders in awed silence.

I should give some backstory as to why he is like this. If you've been following THEBLOG, you will remember every detail of my life, including Shadow's two brushes with death this year. I didn't go into very much detail over Shadow's new condition, MEGACOLON (OF DOOM!), but it essentially means his colon got stretched out beyond repair, and he has issues with, erm, {{insert classy word for "defecating" here}}.

In the interest of educating you, here is a boring timeline:

2005 - 2008: My grandma, out of the great goodness of her heart, takes care of my cat. He gradually climbs to obesity, despite her insistence that he is not eating anymore than he did before. We chalk it up to old age and declining metabolism.

December 2008 - April 2009: I prepare Shadow to move to Boston with a vet-prescribed diet to help him lose weight (Shadow is at a hefty 23 pounds at this point, and while he is at least Maine Coon-sized, that's still a fat ass!). Shadow loses weight and is on the road to healthy!

April 2009 - August 2010: Due to unforeseen circumstances, I have to move back to Maryland and Shadow has to go back to Grandma's. I provide her with exact instructions on how to feed him, and she maintains for the entire year and a half that this is exactly what he is eating, even though he balloons in weight again.

August 2010: Shadow spends almost a week in the hospital, getting a double digit number of cat enemas and generally hating life, the universe, and everything. I decide to bring him home with me when he leaves the hospital, because I am afraid he might not be long for this world, and I want to be with him no matter how long he has left. At this point, my dear, sweet Grandma, whom I love dearly, divulges that she's been feeding him TWICE THE RECOMMENDED AMOUNT OF FOOD!! The jig is up, G-ma! No wonder his freaking colon exploded! I also decide to take Shadow because he is apparently too much of a manipulative sociopath to have a sympathetic old person in charge of his feeding.

Alas, it is in the past, but due to over four years of conditioning, Shadow has learned that loud meowing = food. And has chosen to exercise his will at any time, day or night. So now, the entire house is in a raging war of who is large and in charge, or both. Shadow has also started a war of who is alpha male in the house, and he literally will go up to Sean with a friendly facade and start shit, but that is a story for another day.

His feeding times are at 6AM and 6-7 PM, though Shadow thinks he can bend the rules here like every day is daylight saving time. He stumbles into our bedroom, drunk on his own sense of power, and meows at the top of his lungs anywhere between 4AM and 6AM in the morning, hoping one of us will get up and feed him early in order to shut him up. Sacrificing feline pride is worth an early can of Fancy Feast beef! Sean is more steel-willed than I am at resisting this maneuver, but Sean also doesn't have to deal with the head-pawing that follows loud meowing.

He also tries to trick us into giving him double breakfast. This is the oldest trick in the book, as far as "Shadow's Book of Cheap Chicanery" goes. Sean gets up first, and feeds him breakfast. Whenever I decide to roll out of bed for work, Shadow has cleaned his dish immaculately and tries in a vain attempt to tell me that Sean is a negligent asshole and has FAILED TO PROVIDE BREAKFAST for this obviously near-death wasting-away cat.

As I said, in this war of domination, Shadow is trying to break my spirit by removing all sense of creature comforts or dignity. This includes gnawing on the internet cables and laying on the modem under my desk, which one can only assume is in an attempt that the internet will break and I'll get so bored that I just have to feed a starving cat.

The other is busting in on me when I'm on the can, EVERY SINGLE TIME. I close the door tightly to, but not latched, and inevitably, he will kick the door down, and interrupt me in what should be a quiet moment of contemplation. Shadow is like a post-traumatized Vietnam vet, all punching me in the leg, and, "You think I had privacy in that hospital with tubes up my ass!??!?! Get off the pot and make me some FANCY, DAMMIT!!!!!"




EDIT: The home improvement thing was: what is the most efficient way to oil-heat a house? Budget plan? Pay as you go? Using space heaters and hoping the pipes don't freeze? THANKS!