emilyrems.com

I’ve often accused our cat Xiola of using psychic mind control on us, (look into her evil eyes! I dare you!), but this most recent incident takes the catnip cake. For a while now, she’s been formally protesting something by crapping right in front of her cat box. Like, literally,  right in front, on the floor. And we’ve been doing everything we can to try and figure out what her deal is. We change and scoop the litter on the regular, we moved the box around to see if she needed a change of scenery, we changed the brand of litter, no dice. Then a couple nights ago, I had a very vivid dream.

In it, I was going on a job interview at the Smithsonian’s Modern Art Museum in  D.C., but for some reason, I had to take Xiola with me, which was very awkward. As I walked through the tunnels of the Smithsonian looking for the right room, I was hobbling around on high heels I couldn’t walk in, and was juggling my resume and cover letter, my coat, Xiola, who was perched on my shoulder, and her her cat carrier, which she loathes. When I finally got to the right room, I was informed that I would be called in shortly, so I had to stuff Xiola into her box and lock the little door, explaining that it would only be for a few minutes and then I would let her out. When I put her box on the ground though, I heard a little crackly voice that sounded just like her voice when she meows say:

“Get me out of here.”

I dropped to my knees on the floor in front of the cat carrier even though I was in fancy interview clothes and said, “Xiola! Did you just talk?”

“I said, get me the H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks out of here,” she crackled again, then hissed menacingly at me through the bars.

This totally made me explode laughing, which seemed only to further piss her off. “Did you just say H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks?????” I asked her, almost crying I was laughing so hard. “Where did you even pick that up??? Who says that???”

“Just get me out of here!” she demanded, clearly tired of my shit. “I don’t like enclosed spaces.”

And that was the last thing I remembered before I woke up. I was still kind of laughing about it when I got out of bed to pee, but on the way to le toilette, I stopped for a minute in front of her litter box. Though she had grown up in Brooklyn with just a pan on the floor, the litter box I bought her when she moved in here has a little cover over it with a swinging door on it for privacy and odor control. But in my dream, she had specifically told me she doesn’t like enclosed spaces. So I just took the cover off the box to see what would happen.

Voila. No more protest craps on the floor. Xiola’s powers are so far-reaching and diabolical, she was actually able to invade my dreams to tell me in English what the issue was. Beware of our cat. She is always lurking, preparing to take over the world and make us all her slaves.

This entry was posted on Sunday, February 3rd, 2008 at 9:02 am and is filed under General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.