Happy Caturday: Proof That Cat People Are Crazy

I’m not saying that a painting of our cat as the pope is at all a sane thing to ask for. But we did ask for it, and we received.

A friend of E’s does paintings like this for fun — cats, dogs, whatever animal you have he can then turn them into a superhero, your favorite celebrity, or the pope, for example. So when E heard this, he asked for one of Fish.

At this point, we’re planning to make some dedicated wall space for paintings of Fish. Because we already have a beautiful likeness of her, painted by E’s mom (see below), and I don’t expect the paintings to stop anytime soon. Fish is quite the muse, after all.  

Sorry, just got lost in my own reflection. #livingthatmuselife #catsofinstagram #catart #imsohot

A photo posted by Fish (@acatcalledfish) on

How Our Cat Helped My Fiance Propose

Fiance? Fiancee? I never know, but I think the man gets one “e,” right?

Anyhow, I’m engaged. To be married. It’s so freaking exciting that sometimes I just smile to myself in a super creepy way while alone in my living room. There we go, I’m doing it right now. Creepy smile time.


If you don’t give a flying monkey’s butt about gushy proposal stories, then tag yourself out of this post, because here comes the sappy…. I’ll give you a moment to decide… Done? Cool! Let’s talk about the proposal, because it was awesome, and adorable, and totally perfect.

OK, so for our 3-year-anniversary, E and I went to Ojai, which is about an hour and a half drive from our house. It’s all beautiful mountains, and quaint little country stores, and I heard Reese Witherspoon has a house there, so… so…

Yeah, so we went! And we stayed at the Ojai Valley Inn & Spa (if you’re into all-inclusive things, then this is the place for you!). The first day we were there, we had some massages scheduled, and we decided to grab some food and celebratory cocktails before those happened. See that drink in the photo below? It was lavender lemonade with vodka or something, and it was glorious.


It was so glorious, in fact, that promptly after drinking it we got in our spa robes, and I proceeded to fall asleep on one of the chaise lounges at the spa. (Note: While I was sleeping the drink off, E later told me that he was running through his proposal speech over and over again, so he’d get it right when he finally did propose. I was so day drunk! And blissfully unaware!)

So we get these massages, which were epic, and then hobble back to our hotel room. It was about 6 p.m., and we had dinner reservations at the hotel for 8 p.m. As I showered and blowdry’d the old hair, apparently E was busy tucking the ring inside his coat pocket, and having a mini panic attack (probably).

Something you discover about Ojai pretty quickly is that the people take great pride in their sunsets. They call it the “pink moment,” and our hotel even had a sign out front that predicted when the moment would happen. So we decided to try and go see it, because it was our anniversary, and sunsets are so romantical, and we’re cheesy as hell, OK?

My feet hurt, though. And it was a long walk up the hill to see that pink moment. So I flagged down a golf cart (yes, Ojai Valley Inn & Spa is all about golfing, and you can do things like hitchhike with one).

This probably disturbed E for two reasons:

  1. He had a plan, and this random golf cart driver didn’t know about that plan, and…
  2. Wow, it’s probably going to happen very quickly.

Luckily, this driver was a pro. Like, he knew exactly where to find that pink moment. When he first tried to drop us off, it was in a super crowded spot, and when E said, “Is there anywhere more private?” that probably should’ve tipped me off. But it didn’t. La di da, blissfully unaware still.

We eventually got to the top of a hill, where there was an enormous gazebo with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of the mountains, about to be dusted in pink. We were alone, inside the gazebo, staring off into the sunset, when E turned me around so he could give me his proposal speech.

I’m not going to recite the actual speech, because it was very personal, and made me cry, and I don’t want other people sobbing while reading, but I WILL share the most important part of that speech. Which is that at one point, E told me he’d been talking to Fish (our cat) about our future together, and they’d both come to an agreement. At this point, I had no idea what was going on, I thought he was just being gushy. But then he pulled out his phone, and showed me this picture…


It was our baby kitty girl! And a ring! And she was next to it! And A RING.

I started sobbing. Just like, balling my eyes out. I cried so much that I didn’t even notice E get down on one knee and ask, “Will you marry me?” He had to ask me again, once I’d pulled myself a little more together. But I was so surprised, like, I don’t know how to explain the feeling of your heart exploding into other little hearts, but that’s what happened to me. I really was so overwhelmed with joy and love that it manifested in me sobbing through most of the proposal.

One of the first things I said AFTER the “yes!!” was “This is so weird, right?! I mean, how weird is this?!” Getting engaged is WEIRD. Like, why don’t more people talk about this? It’s probably one of the strangest moments of joy you’ll ever encounter. One minute your life is one way, and the next a ring on your finger means a total relationship shift.

I had no idea what to do.I called my mom. She was watching The Messengers, and tried to usher me off the phone so she could get back to it. Then when she realized what I was saying, I think she went into shock, as did my Dad. E said, “If you’re too emotional to eat, we can get room service,” to which I said, “Oh no, we’re eating!” I knew that I wanted to celebrate, and I knew that I wanted to remember the rest of that night. We got complimentary champagne and desserts — PRO TIP: TELL EVERYONE YOU JUST GOT ENGAGED, AND ALL THINGS ARE FREE — and watched the pink moment turn into a lovely, starry sky.


OK, that’s the end of the sappy proposal story. We spent the rest of the weekend wine tasting, and eating, and telling our friends the good news. Oh, and we watched an episode of Game of Thrones when we got back, so that’s really just the icing to a perfect weekend, right?

9 Things My Cat and I Currently Disagree On

Fish is stubborn. Which can be an amazing quality, and also a terribly misguided one. She’s basically on that, “I am right, you’re totally wrong, and you’re lucky to breathe the same air as me” grind.

For example…

1. Fish is under the impression that instead of simply using her litter box, (the way a human would, for example, use a toilet each time they needed a bathroom), that she also has free rein to use the rug in our bedroom as a de facto litter box. She is simply wrong about this, as our rug is A RUG, and not meant to be soiled on.

2. Fish believes that when she brings one of her cat toys into the bed at 3 a.m., that I will happily wake up, play with her for a solid 30 minutes, and easily doze back to sleep. In fact, that’s not the case at all. I’m not sure where or how she came by this misinformation.

3. When I eventually DO wake up in the morning, Fish will follow behind and meow loudly on a loop, because she thinks that if she takes a breath and stops meowing EVEN FOR A SECOND, that I will no longer offer her food. In some ways, her meows do indeed make me move faster, but I would perhaps provide even more food if she stopped yelling at me.

4. Fish is convinced that outside of our apartment door lies a portal to another dimension where there is endless belly rubs, fresh tuna, and trees that undoubtedly (IF CLIMBED) offer a stairway to cat paradise. She likes to attempt escapes every time I come home from work, and will often succeed. What she fails to remember, is that outside of our door there are no rugs to poop on.

5. Fish thinks my hands, nose, ankles, calves, and jewelry are all OK to bite, because they are in fact her toys. These are actually my body parts/toys, and she couldn’t be more wrong.

6. I attempted to eat some Oreos while watching TV, and upon seeing these, she became convinced that they were delicious, and hers, and MUST have them. While Oreos are vegan, they are not for cats.

7. Fish has long believed that by standing on at least one of my boobs while I try and fall asleep, that I will, in turn, want to pet her. She doesn’t seem to connect me pushing her off the bed to this belief.

8. Fish is certain that the shower is an evil monster, and that by standing outside of it and pacing, I will be released. This is half correct, and also half baked.

9. Perhaps the theory that Fish is most confused by is her hypothesis that when she stares out the window at the street below, that she’s also wearing an invisibility cloak and no one can see her. E and I disproved this theory the other night as we came home from dinner and saw her silhouette, watching, waiting, and most likely laughing at us.

Happy Caturday: Here’s Fish Playing With A Spring

I haven’t taken as many videos and photos of Fish as I should, and that’s mainly because I’m usually too busy playing with her. She’s a year and a half, but it feels like she still has the energy of a kitten. She REALLY loves chasing things and subsequently sitting on them until she’s ready to chase again. I can’t imagine where she gets that from…

Our First Week With Fish The Cat, And That Time She Pooped Everywhere

Here’s a conversation I had with E the other night over a large glass of wine:

Me: Hey, remember when we didn’t have a cat?

E: No.

Me: Me neither.

It’s only been a week with Fish, but it feels like she’s been here forever. And I mean that in the best way possible. Here’s how the week has gone…

Fish and E

Day 1: A woman from the adoption center comes to our house to make sure it’s cat friendly. E and I nervously fidget while trying to hide all of that anti-cat propaganda we secretly have. After roughly three minutes have passed, we sign a contract saying that we’ll be taking Fish home, and she leaves. HOORAY! ALL IS GOOD IN THE WORLD!

We get the OK to pick up Fish that day, so I run to Petco to pick up a litterbox, litter, and a totally unnecessary amount of cat food, which prompts the checkout boy to ask, “How many cats do you have?” To which I’m forced to reply, “Just one.” Humiliating.

Then I head to the shelter to pick up Fish. When I walk in, I see this actress who I recognize from The Newsroom and more importantly, from that one time when she tweeted a topless photo of herself. Alison Pill apparently volunteers at the shelter… and she clapped when she heard that I was adopting Fish. Everyone loves Fish. Even nice actresses with Twitter accounts.

So, I take Fish out of her little cage, and ever so gently nudge her into the cat carrier that I also bought at Petco. She doesn’t like it, and basically spends most of the car ride home mewing about it. But IT’S OK! BECAUSE SHE’S COMING HOME! HOORAY!

That first day at our house, she didn’t nap. Or sleep. She ate a little, and mostly went from room to room, trying to sort out if there were other cats hiding somewhere. She was edgy, (and rightfully so), but she also sat with us, and purred a lot, to basically say, I’m terrified, but let’s be friends! She ended up sleeping on our bed that night too, which was pretty freaking adorable.

Pensive Fish

DAY 2: It’s Super Bowl Sunday, and we’re cooking up a lot of food. And Fish wants to help, or eat it all, or both, so we spend the day training her not to go on the kitchen table, or the kitchen countertops. She seems to be understanding that going on those places means we’ll pick her up and say, “No!” And she doesn’t like the word “No.”

Day 3: I go to work, and E is home with Fish. We’re both a bit concerned, because Fish’s eyes have been twitching every few minutes, to a point where it almost looks like her eyes are shaking. The woman from the adoption center tells us that this often happens in Siamese breeds and it could be nothing, OR it could be a tumor. Because I’m a pessimist, my mind immediately goes for the worst possible scenario, and I make an appointment for Fish to go to the vet later in the week. I spend a lot of the day googling Cat Shaky eyes. Nothing good comes of it.

When I get home from work, Fish is sitting in E’s lap and loving life. It’s pretty adorable. It occurs to me that if Fish does have a tumor, I might actually drain my savings to get her whatever treatment’s necessary. E and I have a talk about what we’ll do if it comes to that, and it kind of broke my heart to think about.

Day 4: Fish has now learned that if she doesn’t jump on the countertops, she gets a treat. So whenever we go into the kitchen, she follows and dutifully waits to be rewarded for her good behavior. Meaning that she equates the kitchen with treats. We figure out that Fish is possibly too smart for her own good, and we are possibly not smart enough.

Day 5: I have to go to work, and since E is working from home, he takes Fish to the vet. It’s a really stressful morning, because I assume we’re going to find out she has a tumor, and am basically preparing for that. I text him all throughout the visit, and he says that she hates the carrier, the vet, and him for bringing her there.

About an hour later, we find out that Fish doesn’t have a tumor. Her eyes are twitchy, like other Siamese cats. And we don’t have to worry about that. But she does need a rabies shot, as it’s the law. So E and Fish leave the vet with a rabies shot and a big case of flea medication. It is a good day.

Day 6: Fish is sick from her rabies shot. She won’t eat. She didn’t sleep in our room the night before. She has a fever, or what we assume is a fever, because her fur is oddly warm to the touch. She doesn’t leave her cat bed the whole day, and we both feel like terrible cat parents. Why did we take her to the vet?! Will she ever be the same?! WE ARE BAD PEOPLE.

Fish High

Day 7: The rabies shot wears off, and Fish has returned to her old self. She experiences catnip for the first time (see photo above), and stares off in some kind of drunken cat stupor for a solid hour.

Then we go out to dinner with friends and brag about what an amazing cat she is. We’re proud kitty parents, and it feels good to have kept her alive for a full week (minus a few hiccups).

When we come home, the place smells undeniably of cat poop. Just a big wave of it when we opened the door. Then we see brown cat paw prints that lead to Fish’s litterbox. Turns out, while we were out to dinner, Fish relieved herself, stepped in that relief, and proceeded to flaunt it all over the apartment.

So, needless to say, we’re getting rid of Fish.


Just kidding! We love her so much that we stayed up till 2 a.m. cleaning the poop floors, dumping out her litterbox, and airing the place out.

Day 8: We buy Fish new litter, because we’re convinced this Feline Pine mess isn’t cutting it. So far, no cat poop paws to be seen.