The cats are in heat.
Actually, only Murat is in heat. Odessa just meows along in an attempt to impress her. It's our own fault, really...after all, we never got them fixed, partially because in the past we've had no car and didn't want to haul them on the bus, partially because they've never been in heat for that long, and partially because the last time we took them to get their kitty check-ups, they shook and hissed and yowled and scratched their way to nervous breakdowns-- and that was before we even reached the pet store. They're indoor cats, you see, who spent the last five years gazing out windows which faced away from the street. They haven't seen cars, or very many people for that matter, so we figured since they reacted so poorly to just being outside in a box, we might as well spare them the trauma of checking in for an operation. Not only that, we felt that since they would never be going outside, it was pretty much an unneccessary surgery that we didn't want to put them through.
After what has now been over a week of constant yowling, especially at 5:00
AM, I've changed my tune. And it's been three weeks since the Dirty Clothes
Basket Incident. It started out as a sunny Sunday morning. I was picking
out something to wear, when I all of a sudden wondered where that pair of
blue socks were. "Did I already wear them?" I thought. "Are they already
in the dirty clothes basket?" I started to search through the pile, and as
I sifted through the clothes, I noticed that some of them were damp. "What
the hell? How can these be damp?" I said aloud. I smelled them. Was it sweaty
damp? Was it moldy damp? No. It was cat-pee damp. Eeeeeee! So, instead of
spending a Sunday doing something moderately enjoyable, we were out purchasing
a new clothes basket and a hamper with a lid, and sitting in a laudromat
with the other fifty people who decided to do their laundry that day. How
do you inconspicuously sniff articles of clothing in a public place? We had
to make sure the cat-pee smell was gone, but I felt like a deviant sniffing
every last sock as we took it out of the dryer, passing articles of clothing
back and forth to each other: "Does this still smell?"
Since Mu (we've named Mu as the guilty one, just because she's the most likely
candidate, but who knows? It could be Odie.) Since she wasn't really meowing
at that point, we figured that she was just marking her territory in the
new apartment. Then the yowling started. Perhaps she needed something to
accompany her as she did the back-up dance all over the living room. In the
beginning, you can placate her. You can call her over, give her a scratch,
and just generally live with the few extra meows. The other morning however,
she woke me out of a sound sleep at 5:00 AM; she was so loud and so unstoppable:
meow meow meow meow meow veryloud meow meow meow meow meow meow meow nonstop
meow meow overandoveragain meow meow meow meow meow meow, and so on. By the
time that day was over, I was a basketcase. My nerves have never been so
raw. When the hell does this cat sleep?
Then came the "Is it just me or does this closet smell like cat pee?" stage.
Every once in a while I would catch the faintest whiffs of what I thought
smelled like cat pee in the closet, but when I sniffed closer, I just couldn't
find where it could be coming from. I smelled several pairs of shoes before
I decided that it was just leftover trauma from the Dirty Clothes Basket
Incident. Recently, though, I was rushing to get ready for work and was about
to put on my nice brown work shoes and leave when I smelled it again. The
only pair of shoes that I hadn't previously checked was the one that the
cat (or cats) had peed on (or in). I knew I smelled something. Boy was I
ever pissed. She couldn't have picked the black ones which were on their
last legs and about to be replaced? She had to pee on the brown ones, which
were worn way less frequently and had months, if not years left before they
were ready to be thrown away? Many dollars worth of Cat-Scent-B-Gone later,
they still smelled, well, bad. No matter how much you squirt onto leather,
the smell just doesn't come out. They're still sitting on the kitchen floor,
wrapped in a plastic bag because I can't bear to actually have to toss those
shoes into the garbage can. They were like new, for Christ's sake! After
yet another trip to Bed Bath and Beyond, we are now the proud owners of a
hanging plastic shoe holder. "Ha! Foiled again!" I said to the cat as I waved
it in her face.
Not only have I been kept awake by the cat's actual yowling, I've also laid
awake worrying that for sure the downstairs neighbors can hear her all night
long and are silently brooding and plotting their revenge. Though they recently
claimed to hear nothing of the sort, I still can't believe them...how can
they possibly not hear this cat? This cat with a piercing meow? Doesn't she
realize she won't be getting any? I mean, it's been weeks! Wake up and smell
the coffee! Well, since the neighbors can't seem to hear her, screw it. As
of tonight I have armed myself with three pairs of earplugs (and a bonus
earplug travel case). Meow away, feline!
I just can't help but remember the good old days, when Mu would curl up on
the bed and sleep the evening away. Remember how cute she looked sitting
in a patch of sunlight? Wasn't she a darling when she chased our feet as
they moved under the bedspread? Wasn't it sweet the way she quietly meowed
when someone mentioned the word "milk"? Yeah. Those were the days. I hope
they come back soon...I could really use a good night's sleep.