the jmeoww diaries: V.16

Let's pretend for a moment that I didn't plan a grand return to blogging and then majorly fail. Let's also NOT pretend that you are here for any other reason than to hear about her. Because as much as I think about writing and getting back into the swing of things, the one thing that actually gets me to sit my butt down with the laptop that Justin bought me for this exact purpose — IS HER.

Her being JMEOWW Ann Gee-Dee. For those of you who may have stumbled upon this blog by accident, you are in fact reading about a cat. But not just any cat. A cat who howls like a toddler if I dare to use the restroom when I get home from work, rather than give her my undivided attention. A cat who does not settle down for the night until both of her humans are in their proper places on the couch. A cat who demands treats be placed in an old wrapping paper tube so she may be entertained. THAT CAT.

So, here we are. And how is she doing, you ask? Well, we think she is broken. Or that she is going through a phase that I have dubbed "mewburty." You know, puberty. But for cats. Even though she is fixed because for fuck's sake spay and neuter your animals you heathens.

We aren't sure if it is the El Nino or then sudden 85 degree weather, or that she is simply just aging; but she has been "off." And by "off" I mean she literally does not move off of her new spot on the couch. A cushion that will never return to its original form because since the day she discovered its comfort and perfection approximately two months ago she rarely leaves it. Very near to her spot on the couch is my spot on the couch, which means that I often get my head aggressively stroked by her tail (which is rarely at rest). And I get to listen to her cleaning her toe cheese which I feel like she knows irritates the shit out of me so she saves it until she is above my head.

It took her two years to find this spot and apparently she is never leaving it EVER.

Justin and I realized, just last night, that this is because from her cushion perch she can see most of the apartment, so she will always know where we are. It may also be due to the fact that my essential oil diffuser is near her watchtower and she HATES the essential oil diffuser even though I am obsessed with it and its also not my fault that our living room has so few electrical outlets that are accessible for my needs.

In addition to the not moving situation, her meow clock is broken. The meow clock typically sounds about 10 minutes before my actual alarm clock goes off and does not stop going off until I am up and out of bed feeding her (typically 3-4 alarm snoozes later). In the past few weeks she has rarely made her alarm clock appearance and when she does it is unusually polite. Like a gentle little meep meow instead of her usual desperate howl of starvation. On the weekends, however, the meow clock sounds approximately two hours too early (Justin has jmeoww breakfast duty on the weekend because we share parenting responsibilities like that). So when I wake up before her, I FIND HER ON THE COUCH PERCH. And she just looks back at me like, "Oh. Hey. Yea put some food in that bowl I'll get it later, no rush Ma!"Like she is suddenly some chill, non-neurotic rainman of an animal that is okay with casually being fed, like whenever bro. SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT YOU GUYS.

She's only happy when it rains. CORRECTION: She does not shut up when it rains
because she is the Paul Revere of rain, as if we couldn't tell what is happening outside.

So, perhaps she has the winter sads or just the plain old lazies. Perhaps the couch really is just that comfortable (I mean, I have been known to fall asleep on it 4-6x per week). But as long as we are all in the living room at the same time, all is well and she can return to her couch perch. Oh, and as long as there is an ice cube in her water, she is fine. Also as long as the bathroom door is open while you use the toilet, she is fine. MEWBURTY, you guys.

the jmeoww diaries: V.15

We recently returned from a long overdue vacation, AKA Tiffany's tour of the East Coast locales in which Justin once lived. From Boston to Maine to New Hampshire (and then to Mechanicville, NY for me because of course), we saw friends and family and some of the most beautiful lands in our country. But not one damn moose, which I am still peeved about. We did, however, hear elk breeding which is a story I will tell you one day over some beers.

Boston

The one and only FALL tree in New Hampshire.

Lake Winnipesaukee, NH

Glorious, yes? This past weekend we visited my family for the first time since the trip and they could not wait to hear....

...about how jmeoww handled herself during this vacation and our return.

Yes, her life is far more interesting than ours and we get it.

Leaving our precious feline child for longer than 6-hours is a daunting and emotional production like no other. My little sister was conveniently unable to take on meow-sitting duties, so we turned to jmeoww's other entrusted human — Paul. Paul is the hero who took on this task over our honeymoon last year. And because sometimes I need a good cackle, I saved the email he sent from that time and would like to gift you an excerpt:

"I went into the kitchen to get her food and while I was cleaning her dishes I could hear her hissing.  I'd look over and she'd perk up and meow when I saw her, then hiss again when we couldn't see each other. It was hilarious.

So I got the treats and the toys and walked over to her. Gave her a couple of treats and petted her, and she would purr, then meow, then purr, then hiss, then purr...she was SO FUNNY."

FUNNY INDEED. And because Paul is a saint and fully aware of the commitment involved, he agreed to watch her again this trip. We only heard from him once (although I did make Justin check-in several times for my benefit), and his text said:

How kind of Justin to LOL prior to asking Paul is he was okay. I just kept saying, SHE IS SO EMBARRASSING. At this point I assumed that she had accepted her new life as a parentless cat living in a one-bedroom apartment with appliances she could never operate and clothing that would never fit her. But at least we left a light on. Oh, and the A/C because thank you San Diego for reaching temperatures that would surely cause an indoor cat to implode. And because she doesn't have thumbs, she HAD to depend on Paul for food but also she had to make sure that he didn't steal it. Which is WHY she overreacted, obviously. Who knows when her next meal would have been! 

Justin returned home three days earlier than I did (because, Mechanicville!) so he dealt with most of the overly-clingy animal recovering from her brief stint as an orphan. He reported that there was a lot of very loud meowing and a lot of staring at the door waiting for me to walk through.

LIKE SO.

I returned on Monday afternoon while Justin was still at work. Basically it was like she didn't believe I was home. I had to wake her up from her daytime resting place underneath the bed, and then she just stared at me. Clearly I must be dreaming! But then. Then she smelled the OTHER CATS on my suitcase and continued to smell every part of all the things until she was certain they weren't with me. It was only then that I was granted a very brief yet very drool-filled cuddle session. 

While she most certainly has her asshole moments, we can see a big difference in the recovery time after these earth-shattering events. But let's not discuss what happens when it rains. Because if you wanted to hear about it at 7:15 a.m. on a Sunday morning, she would be happy to tell you ALL about it. 

Now, if you have questions about the HUMANS' vacation, please let me know!

the jmeoww diaries: V.14

I know you all are wondering about Justin and I and the wedding and everything that has happened since. But I really know that anything that has happened in our lives is far less interesting than anything that has happened in hers...

It's totally okay, I accept that you all are here for her. While she did not actually make it to the wedding, she was there in spirit in the form of cardboard cutouts at the photobooth. She was a hit, as always.

Probably the next biggest thing to her unofficial marriage to Justin was moving to a new apartment. The entire process of finding a place, packing, moving, and unpacking is incredibly stressful for the humans. But for the meoww, she has her own story to tell.

Justin and I both had requirements for our new apartment. Must have a washer and dryer. Must have A/C. Must feel like a castle. And so on. But the one qualifier that got us the oddest looks from the apartment managers was an enclosed patio on the second floor. For our cat. A CATIO, if you will. Imagine us telling eight different apartment managers that their patio/balcony was in fact not good enough for our cat. We knew that for our sanity and hers, she needed to go outside in a safe, enclosed space. She had spent nearly three years expending pent up energy and anger out on that patio and also creeping out the neighbors. She LOVED that patio. And the thought of taking that away from her made us feel like terrible humans. So our new place would have to have a catio.

Well, turns out human needs trumped hers for once and she did not get the perfect catio. There is a small balcony, but it is concrete rather than fencing or railing and we imagined we could make it work. We will build a weather-proof cat tower that is tall enough for her to see the world! We will make this work and feel like less terrible humans!

But we haven't needed to build said dangerous cat tower because this glorious apartment has one thing that our old place didn't have for her: WINDOWS. The cave that we previously lived in had a sliding glass door and two bedroom windows that were blocked by our TV and dresser. But this castle? ALL THE WINDOWS. She can see the world from the air-conditioned indoors and peep on the neighbors just fine! Windows completely eliminated the need for the actual outside world. And us humans could feel a little less guilty.

The one tiny hangup with this perfect situation? Her fatass didn't know how to jump up on windowsills. Three months later, you guys, she still takes a spill every now and then and I die. Just die. Her intial attempts at getting up on the windowsill involved jumping straight up and using her claws to cling on to the ledge and just hang there while I scrambled to try to get a photo. Which was great for the new coat of paint. Then she learned she needed to launch all 14-pounds of her bad self up and onto the ledge but at the right speed as to not slam her face into the glass. I TRIED TO FILM IT, I DID. It was quite possibly my favorite part of moving. Jmeoww learning how to use windowsills, who would've thought.

Justin just discovered this picture on his phone and I can't stop cackling about it. It could not be more perfect.

To ease her troubles a bit her non-legal husband Justin decided to purchase yet ANOTHER piece of cat furniture which he said he would never have in his home. A nearly four foot tower that is her vessel of relaxation but also used for creeping on the neighbors. You guys I swear 6 nights a week she is up in the tower either watching us or watching the neighbors. I legitimately thought the neighbors were going to complain because she just. sits. there. And she doesn't just sit. She loooooounges. Full meow relaxation in her queen tower. Limbs poking out of the climbing hole, leg stretched out over the side. Sometimes she clings to the edge and looks down like she has never been up that high ever. And every now and then she gets in an epic battle with her tail or the tower or both. And we will pause the TV to watch it play out, because marriage.

So basically, jmeoww's life has been pretty darn great. Her only complaint is that we aren't in the same room with her at all times, and also where are the kibbles?

Until next time, jmeoww fans!

the jmeoww diaries: V.13

As I sit here typing, the subject of this blog post is howling, howling for attention. She already took a swipe at my arm and I am losing blood as we speak. Hopefully we get through this post before I pass out...

At the beginning of the month I got the dreaded email reminder that it was time for her annual check-up and her flea medicine injection. The vet also sends a ton of specials and coupons and I always check the fine print to see if it says excludes jmeoww gee. We made the appointment and I left the game plan up to Justin, because when it comes to my baby meow I let her run my life, obviously. 

We made the decision to skip the sedatives completely. Because the act of attempting to give them to her stresses all of us out so entirely much that we all nearly break-up with each other. When it was GO TIME, he went on the patio to our storage closet and as soon as he touched the carrier and it made the faintest sound her tailed puffed up and she started distress howling. Because clearly we were going to kill her. I very carefully picked her up by the scruff of the neck and shoved her fatass into the carrier, and off they went. I remained home because my stress feeds her stress and I was already in tears by the time they were out the door. 

I sat with my phone in my lap just in case Justin sent a distress signal. I listened for ambulances in the distance. But 45-minutes later they walked through the door (and I had the bath ready for her because she is traditionally a peepants at the vet). Beyond some minute meow poops in the carrier, she was fine! Tweaked, but fine! I picked her up making sure to avoid the ass region and dropped her in the bath and she just sat there, totally defeated. After some drying by me, I let her go so she could hide and completely reclean herself.

And then the most amazing thing happened. Rather than hide for hours and days, she came back out 30 minutes later and was all WHAT'S UP FUCKERS and laid her still wet self in the middle of our bed. Thanks. We were shocked and also overjoyed because she really has made huge strides and is so much less of a complete derelict than she used to be! SHE IS ALMOST NORMAL. All of Justin's cat whispering is clearly paying off.

That afternoon I required a serious adult nap, which always happens on the couch because hello couch naps are the best. And then the second miracle of our lives happened. Please refer to the photo below and pay no attention to my meaty arm.

You may wonder why you ALWAYS see that blanket. Well, I got it when she was a wee meow and she requires it for mom time. She will literally only have mom time if the blanket is in position.

THREE HOURS YOU GUYS. For three hours she slept on me like that. Maybe I also slept for three hours but that is not the point. And during Superbowl? MORE NAPTIMES ON MOM. I was dying, DYING and in cuddly cat heaven because as you know cuddle time is always intense and never lasts more than 3.5 minutes. I refused to wake her or even move. The only time she would get up was when Justin went into the kitchen because maybe he was getting her cheese or treats or even some toys probably all for her. 

That night she also went on a date, which is probably why she was so tired Sunday. A DATE? Yes, she has a suitor. A HUGE fluffy guy that has been hanging out on the lower patio caterwauling to her. She kept running in and out screeching like a crazy girl on a blind date, which I made a narrative for naturally. They haven't had another date since but I think that her desperation to go out on the patio comes from her deep love for him. Which means we constantly have to sweep up the flower petals that are falling on the patio so she doesn't eat them and vom in my toms again (in other news the flower petal barfing has happened more than once...).

It never ends, the drama. But those two precious days of cuddles made it all worth it. And I do believe my arm needs some neosporin. Until next time, loyal meow fans!

the jmeoww diaries: v.12

Well, hello there! Long time, I know. We are beyond overdue for this edition of JMD and while the Queen Beast and I were brainstorming we came up with nothing! Nothing monumental, you see. She has become increasingly more lovable and cuddly. STOP THE PRESSES. Right? You see now why I have no blog content. However, she still has and always will have her evil tendencies. And her hilarious moments. So here are a few notable ones that occurred over the past few weeks:

The love of her life, Justin, bought her a house (so he could put away the plastic storage bin she had proclaimed her land). Her very own house aka the new base of attack operations. Shortly after the house purchase, I received a new purse in the mail that came in OMG A BOX. With tissue that made REALLY FUN TISSUE BALLS. Which means I won the house wars. Until I went out of town for a minute and Justin threw the precious box away. Like the devil himself.

HEAVENS.

Once she decided that said house was acceptable and totally not scary, she started sleeping on the cozy spot on top of it and my heart exploded into a million and one thousand pieces. Guys, when your cat has chased your naked ass through the living room trying to make you bleed, the quiet and sweet moments are much more meaningful.

We also sleep here. We sleep a lot.

She stole my cuddle spot. What the fuck are you even talking about, Tiffany? Okay, bear with me on this one. When we go to bed at night, I always curl up in the same spot on Justin. GROSS BARF, I KNOW. I will give you a minute to recover from our disgusting adorableness. One night as I was ipadding and pinning all of the things as usual, she jumped up on the bed like she always does for aggressive nighttime cuddles. Except she didn't come and stand all 15 pounds of herself on my delicate sternum like she always does. No. Instead, she went straight for the cuddle spot and stretched out all fucking proud. I WAS APPALLED. But also hysterically laughing because of her smug little expression. She laid there for about 4 total minutes (which is about 2 minutes longer than her normal cuddle sesh) and the entire time kept looking at me over her shoulder, like "SEE. SEE THIS?" Yes, animal. I see that you remain as the dominant being in our relationship.

She proved the Japanese wrong. And continues to do so. I can call her name from another room and she comes right to me and jumps up for some brief cuddles. Shit, she hears my car beep when I lock it and walk upstairs and she is at the door like a proud puppy ready to greet me. THEY CARE, JAPAN.

And like the stereotypical feline that she is when she thinks no one is looking, she has taken up her holiday residence underneath the Christmas tree. MY HEART. You guys, it is so fucking cute. Until we go to bed and hear the gentle rattle of ornaments and run out to catch her staring at the shiny balls on the floor like they are the most special treasure we have ever given her. The tree has been up for 5 days. She has knocked off 5 ornaments. And she is so happy about it. She just loves the tree we gave her.

Like a goddamned Christmas card.

I know. You try successfully photographing an all-black cat and report back to me. Better yet, those of you with an elf on the shelf — replace said elf with this photo and tell those damn kids that JMEOWW IS WATCHING.

That might be the best idea I've ever had. Look out, Christmas 2014. Jmeoww on a shelf, coming to a store near you! 

the jmeoww diaries: v.11

Fans, today is a special day. My dear friend and Jmeoww Fan Club President, Ashley, has shared with us her amazing artistic talents for this edition of JMD. I cannot stop giggling. Enjoy!

It all started with her fucking collar.

It just disappeared. Yes, it was a safety release collar but how could it just disappear? We hypothesized the many fates that befell said collar.

• She threw it off the balcony during her nightly neighborhood watch shift.

• She shoved it down the garbage disposal because it totally was making a funny noise the other night.

• She left it at her boyfriend's house.
  
  

• And my favorite — she ate it. LISTEN. I never ever found her favorite pink fish kitten toy when we moved and I still believe that she ate it. So why wouldn't she eat a collar?!?

We half-ass looked for it a few times and continued to joke about until I had a panic attack that she was going to escape and not know her phone number. So I decided to really look and had another panic attack when I found it. The metal nametag was stuck in between two parts of my shoe rack. It was quite difficult for my human self to get the collar unstuck and then I had one of those Sookie Stackhouse moments in which I saw what happened to her as I touched the collar.

My poor precious angelmeoww had been STUCK by something around her NECK in a DARK closet! I wanted to cry. But I didn't. Because she was watching me remove the collar. Pissed because I was in her hiding spot, I thought. But then I pulled the collar out and holy shit. She looked at it and visibly trembled. Like it all came back to her in that one single moment of terror. MY POOR ANGELMEOWW. 

Now please note that my moments of extreme sympathy are few and far between with that one. Mostly because my ankles are consistently covered in blood and scratches. But this moment — not unlike the time I put a dragon hat on and made her puff up 3 times her size because she was so scared — this moment was heartbreaking. 

We left it on Justin's desk because that is where things go to die. That is also where she conducts her business so each time she was on the desk, she would sniff the collar and bat at it. I called this "immersion therapy" and assumed that she was ready to have it back on. So back on it went.

And then things changed. She stopped greeting me at the door when I got home from work. She wouldn't even come out when her boyfriend got home from work. She would meow from under the bed to let us know that she still existed, but she would not move. Even all of the shreddy cheese and treats in the world wouldn't get her to come out from under the bed.

When she did come out from under the bed she would not leave the room. Like would not cross that threshold. The PTSD she was experiencing was far too severe and we thought that she would never return to her old angelic-self ever again.

So Justin, being the softhearted slave to the jmeoww that he is, removed the collar. 

And then things changed, again. SHE WAS FREE, YOU GUYS! The trauma. The torture. IT WAS ALL OVER CAN WE PLAY NOW? How about now? Should we play now? CAN YOU AT LEAST SIT ON THE FLOOR BY ME? I've only had 6 treats, do you have any more? ARE THOSE MY TREATS?

I'm pretty sure Justin has been playing with her ever since. Her energy level? Unmatched by any cat I've experienced in my life. And we can't just give her toys to play with. WE are her toys. She requires us to interact with her. And by us I mean Justin because my ass is too busy watching Scandal and also she bullies me. She Has. Not. Stopped. since that fateful day Justin removed her collar.

She also somehow got the idea in her tinyass head that if she came in our bedroom at 6 am and stood next to the bed and consistently meowed, that we would know that it was time to play again and we would get up and play! AT 6 AM! Yes, we would get up and feed her. But she followed us back into the bedroom every damn time and meowed. And meowed. And meowed. And although it breaks my heart, she is now banned from the bedroom in the wee hours of the morning.

Will she ever wear a collar again? Unclear at this point. I'd like her to because, hello accessories! But until then, the burden and terror of those dark times in her life are gone and she finally can be herself again.

To see more of Ashley's work, visit her blog!

the jmeoww diaries v.10

Last time we met we wondered if this would be the end of The JMEOWW Diaries — she was doing so well! She was so nice!

And yet, here we are. Friends of the Queen Beast, she is back and better than ever. Her good behavior lasted just long enough for Justin to take us out of consideration for My Cat From Hell and then BAM. Jmeoww's back, y'all. Miss Jmeoww, if you're nasty.

The worst of the worst started two weekends ago, when Justin was preparing her for her trip to the vet (vaccines, flea shot, lobotomy). As you all well know the vet will not see her unless she has taken a sedative. Which I still call bullshit on because it is their one job. But I digress. So Justin was going to be Saint Justin as per usual and let me sleep in while he tricked Jmeoww into eating sedative-laced treats.

Okay maybe sedative-laced cheese.

Well how about sedative-laced treats AND cheese all inside a pill pocket with a $100 bill as a thank you?

She was having none of that. None of it. So he very apologetically woke me up and in my half-awaken state I grabbed the pill, put Jmeoww in a leglock and tried to force the pill down her throat. She was like, no thank you to that but here's a side of IMMA CUT YOUR LEG OFF for your troubles. If I wasn't awake yet, I was after I got the bunny-kicks to my upper thigh. I lost some blood.

And then after that she went full-rainmeoww and we decided to call off the vet trip for all of our emotional well-being. So we rescheduled for the following week. Because we are adults and totally in charge here.

We were so well prepared for the next trip. Our new plan was to crush the pill and put it in some wet food, which she normally doesn't get. So we gave her wet food every few days so that she wouldn't be suspicious. I still have the same bowl that I used when she regularly got wet food as a kitten so when she sees it her tiny meowbrain explodes out of her ears and she's like THE RED BOWL IS FULL OF GLORY.

We were totally pumped. We had this.

Except. Well. She saw the pill bottle. She made eye-contact with the pill bottle and knew that something was up. By the time I was dragging my ass out of bed she was already on her way back under the bed all slinky like. When I met Justin in the kitchen with a What Did You Do Wrong face his response was, "I didn't realize she was THAT smart."

Um excuse me. I'm taking her to Vegas to count cards. Obviously she is THAT smart.

But the battle wasn't over yet. We got her out of the bedroom and shut the bedroom door so she would have nowhere to retreat to and we just knew that she was starving and she would HAVE to eat the food. She had to.

Well, instead she hid behind the bar like a wounded warrior and flinched anytime someone made a sound. At this point, my motherly instinct kicked in and I knew what I had to do. So I sat behind the bar with her and rekindled our relationship. Although I was trying to get her to trust me so that I could betray her again, it needed to be done. Once she was more comfortable, I found a piece of string that she had clearly been saving back there and we played with a goddamned piece of string for a good 25-minutes. A. Piece. Of. String. We had a couple of very scary moments filled with loud noises that Justin was making (like throwing trash away), but eventually after much trust-building she went out and ate some of the goddamned sedative-laced food.

I was so fucking proud at that moment it was like she spoke an entire sentence in English or something. But I couldn't celebrate too loudly because loud is totally scary.

By this point, it was too late for the sedative to really kick in and she didn't eat nearly enough of the drug-food but I took her to the vet anyways because it is their one job. Upon walking through the door the receptionist looked at my haggard face and at the Queen of all Veterinary Visits and said, "Oh is that my friend?!?"

Yes. Yes she is your friend. She is everyone's friend. Just don't let her see the fucking pill bottle ever again.

the jmeoww diaries v.9

FANS. It has been far, far too long since you have officially heard from the Queen Beast. She misses you, she thinks. She isn't very familiar with emotions. She only knows that when I watch Downton Abbey she should leave the room so she doesn't have to witness my tears.

But I digress. Things are happening in Miss Meoww's fabulous life. Fame, wedding planning, vacations. So many things! Where shall we start?

Fame

Well, near-fame, to be more accurate. Her dearest Justin lovingly submitted her to a show called My Cat From Hell. Are you familiar? The title tells all. Hilariously enough, he got a call back and we were told to start filming her bad behavior immediately and submit as much footage as possible.

Jmeoww Consuela Gee. For your consideration.

I AM SERIOUS. We were going to be so TV famous! But something happened. Something confusing, but something very good.

She stopped being a complete asshole.

I swear on this blog that the night after the casting woman called Justin and we were poised and ready to film, she slept on the bar stool THE ENTIRE NIGHT. No whining for playtime during dinner. No biting of my feet under the dinner table. Not one ounce of blood was shed. HOW DISAPPOINTING IS THAT?

We knew, we just knew, that when she returned from her "vacation" we would have our old jmeoww back.

"Vacation"?

Well, kind of a vacation. As you may have seen through the social medias, our apartment was tented and fumigated for termites last week. OUR VERY OWN CIRCUS. Without all of the fun and child molesters. We made the painstaking decision to board jmeoww at her vet clinic, rather than keep her in the vacant apartment we would be staying in.

This was really our apartment. We are not Lakers fans, at all.

I. Was. Heartbroken. My poor little creature, all by herself in some sort of cage. Probably pooping herself, like she always does. And although we spent two restless nights on an air mattress that we had to wake up and fill every two hours because she had punctured it with her vicious claws, we missed our meow!

We were fully prepared to deal with severe boarding PTSD upon her return and planned to stay home so that we could sit and hold her paws while she recovered.

And then. And then she gave us another miracle from baby jesus on high.

SHE WAS FINE YOU GUYS! Okay, so she didn't eat for two days or leave her carrier while boarded, but she didn't try to kill anyone! When she got home we bathed her because we were unclear whether there may have been pants-pooping or not and after about 30 minutes of hiding she came out and was all, HEY GUYS WHAT DID I MISS?

We were shocked, and overjoyed. Okay, still a little peeved that we would NOT be on TV. But she was okay! She was better than okay...she's grown into a woman meow that can handle normal things! (With the exception of loud noises. That shit will never be tolerated.)

It has been nearly a week since her little journey and SHE COULD NOT LOVE ME MORE. There have been moments of extreme hyperactivity but our nights always end with aggressively LOVING cuddles. All up in my neck type of cuddles. I can't even handle it. If I giggle she gets embarrassed and leaves so I just have to sit there and take it while Justin laughs and probably in his head wonders what kind of crazy bitches he is marrying.

So what does this mean? Is this the end of crazy meoww stories? The end of the jmeoww diaries? Time will tell. Maybe once she gets over the relief of being home she will start being murdery again. But for now, my ankles are scratch-free and I am getting to experience what it is like to have an adorably cuddly cat. Even if it occurs at inopportune bedtime moments and lasts for 5 minutes or less. Totally worth it.

Meowpocalypse Now.

It is time, my friends. Time for YOU to tell us (Queen Jmeoww Consuela Gee & Tiff Gee) about your pet disasters. We are not here to diagnose your troubles. We are simply here to laugh at with you and revel in the fact that we are not alone.

So, please grab our button. Remember, all pets (EVEN BIRDS) are welcome. We would appreciate a follow and would also like you to make some new friends/support group members.


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And what kind of story do we have for you on this momentous day? The story of our Meowpack.
What in the ever-living-hell is a meowpack, you ask? Think of a wolfpack, and swap out the wolves for cats.  There is a clear leader in a pack, and then those that are less and less dominant.
Well guess who falls at the bottom of our meowpack? Me. The female human. The female who rescued a tiny black kitten from a life on the streets. The female who single-mothered her for months and who is still the target of aggressive early morning face cuddles. 
How do I know that I am the lowest member of the totem pole? So glad you asked!

• When just her and I are awake in the morning and she does her business, she doesn't bury it. She metaphorically shits on me. I thought she just regressed back to being an asshole kitten, but shortly after I realized this was happening this video was released. It is science. The science of dominance. Keep that in mind when you are trying to put someone in their place.

• She still tries to kill me. Yes, I am being dramatic. But when she wants to play or just wants attention, if I walk by her she will claw and bite the shit out of my legs. And she doesn't back down. I've been trying to "challenge" her with it lately, but shit she is tough to intimidate. My ankles are consistently covered in scratches. If I don't let her claw at my flesh, she lets out this guttural meow like I am denying her some great pleasure. 

• And the most obvious sign that I am the weakest meowpack member? These things never happen to Justin. Of course not! Why would she make her precious secret eye-blinking Justin smell her morning constitutional while he brushes his teeth? And obviously her beloved's ankles are too perfect for scarring. No, he does not deserve such abuse.

This is the boss of me.

And that is the current state of our Meowpack. My hope is that we will return to the natural order of things, soon. Meaning I am in charge of everyone, obviously.

the jmeoww diaries v.8

Fans of the beloved queen beast, welcome to our story of the month — stories, if you will. March was a challenging month for our dear JMEOWW. And although not as traumatic as going to the vet she did have some hurdles, the first being abandonment.

Jmeoww is not the type of cat that you can leave for a day or two and not worry about it. She is the opposite of everything you've ever heard about cats due to her severe abandonment issues stemming from her rough kittenhood. So when Justin and I took our 6-day vacation a few weeks ago, we enlisted my little sister to be our meowwsitter. She reluctantly agreed. She was jmeoww's original auntie, and then she went and got a meoww of her own. And now they do things like this together...

The only Harlem Shake I would ever MAKE you watch.

We thought that having Brittany check in on jmeoww would make it a lot easier for us when we returned. She wouldn't be so needy, we thought. She will adjust just fine, we proclaimed. When we walked through the door late Friday night we heard the loudest meows you would ever hear in your life. She ran laps. She meow-screamed. She ran in and out on the patio. And OMG HAVE YOU SEEN THE BIRD POOP OUTSIDE COME LOOK AT IT!

Jmeoww didn't sleep for almost two days, you guys. She meowed. She ran in circles. She lurked. She did everything but sleep. If she went to sleep, we would leave again. She just knew it. So she stayed awake. She yawned and head-nodded her little heart away but she kept her vigil. For nearly two days.

"You still have things in your travel box. I SHALL HELP."

When she did decide to sleep, she decided it was time to share the bed with us again. Two tall-ass adults that had spent a week in luxurious king beds were now sharing a queen bed with a fatass cat. Cute, yes. Comfortable, never. But do not under any circumstances try to move her or adjust your own self. THIS IS HOW IT MUST BE FROM NOW ON, HUMANS.

And if the pure shock and excitement of us coming home wasn't enough, fucking Iams changed the shape of her food again. Which she alerted us to several times. Yes, we see it. Yes, we are so sorry. Yes, I will write them a strongly worded email tomorrow. Yes, you can proofread it. Yes, you should definitely bring the kibbles over to the carpet and eat them so we can all see that you've accepted the shape change.

The final challenge that March served Jmeoww was daylight savings. Among her many skills, she has the unique ability of being an alarm clock. When she hears my alarm go off, if I am not out of bed by the next snooze she comes and meows in my face. It is charming, it really is. Well, her internal meow clock did not set itself ahead an hour so she was coming in at 6 a.m. meowing like there was some sort of emergency and she was probably saving the day. Not quite my darling animal. Go the fuck to sleep.

One of those morning when she came in too early to get me out of bed, a series of ill-timed events led to vaginal trauma that I have not emotionally recovered from. She was walking, ever so daintily on me and then over to Justin. She brushed his arm with her fur, which startled him in his sleep and he whacked her, scaring her and flinging her into the air. Where did she land? In my crotch, claws out leaving a nice puncture wound behind. She has scratched me in many places, but this was a first for sure.

We have all mostly recovered, just in time for another trip to the vet in two weeks (with sedatives this time...for all of us!). Jmeoww's life, you guys? Hard knock, indeed.

the jmeoww diaries V.7

I had a few silly JMEOWW anecdotes to share with you for this month's edition of JMD. The time I locked her outside for 3 seconds and she rammed full-speed into the screen door. The love affair with the balloon. The time we got woken up by this:

But then something happened this weekend. As Justin put it, the MEOWWPOCALYPSE happened. And you guys, it really did.

Saturday I loaded up the queen beast for a quick trip to the vet for a nail trim and a shot. Simple, right? I didn't make Justin accompany me because I totally had this under control. And he had a podcast to record. Totally got this.

The visit seemed to be taking a bit long, but I knew that they were quite busy and I wasn't in a hurry so I didn't mind. About 45 minutes later the vet tech returns my animal to me and says the phrase I had always feared.

"We might want to consider sedatives for her next visit."

And then I died. I always joke about her terrorizing and attempting to murder the vet techs, but when it ACTUALLY happens? Oh dear lord, I just died.

"Oh, and she pooped back there and wouldn't let us clean her."

LOVELY. So I head home, shell-shocked shitass cat in tow and come up with a game plan. Justin is locked in the bedroom, remember. So this is a solo project. JMEOWW shitass cleaning solo project. It can't be that hard...Totally got this.

I position the carrier so she can't bolt, and grab a few of the cat wipes that I have on hand. I open the carrier, and she is so ready for this. And by ready for this I mean she is ready to murder my fucking face off. I wrestle her for a few minutes trying to clean her shitass. She is making the most awful sounds I've ever heard an animal make, like I am tearing her skin off and in fact not trying to clean her shitass. I'm trying to calm her down and at the same time totally having a nervous breakdown and trying not to be too loud because I don't think that Justin wanted howling cats and screaming Tiffany in the background of his podcast.

After about 6 minutes that felt like 6 hours, I gave up. I got most of the shitass taken care of and I couldn't do it any more. I was covered in cat hair. She was howling like I was raping her. I am so not a raper. So I let her go and then I had a full emotional breakdown. I had just wrestled my cat to clean her shitass, okay? I think the overwhelming guilt of these "traumatic" trips to the vet and the actual having to wipe cat shit off of her tail was just too much.

I watched in horror as she cleaned herself and made a mental note not to play face-boops for at least 2 days. When Justin finally emerged from the bedroom 40 minutes later, he found me bundled up on the couch with my tear-stained face like I had just returned from war-torn Syria. He asked me what happened and I just shook my head and said, "I'm not ready to talk about it yet."

So as I sobbingly finished my story, Justin said my third-least favorite phrase I would hear on that day.

"We have to give her a bath."

Absolutely not. She has had the worst day of her meowwily existence and you want me to make it worse?

But, he was right. There was probably still shitass to deal with and so we did. She survived the bath and then retreated to her clubhouse for the remainder of the day. And I was completely emotionally drained for the rest of the day. I tried to give her a treat a few days later and she ran and hid from me because she is completely traumatized for the rest of her life. I can't help but imagine her screaming, "I WIPE MY OWN ASS!"

The moral of this month's installment of The JMEOWW Diaries? We all need sedatives, sometimes. Even the meowws.

The jmeoww Diaries V.6

Well hello there, fans of the one and only Miss Meoww! It has been far too long since our last JMD, and for that your highness apologizes (although unsincerely). You see, she has been extremely busy settling in to her new home with her boyfriend and developing a daily routine much like any other obsessive compulsive cat.

Her day begins when I wake up, or sometimes when she chooses to wake me up two hours early. Not for food though, just to say hello and get some early morning cuddles that end with her biting my hand off. When I head to the kitchen to start coffee, she is usually still in her bed and she meows at me to pet her. So I do and then she gets up and chases me into the kitchen while biting my ankles.

There was a time when you couldn't even touch her while
she was in bed. PERSONAL SPACE, BITCHES.

Her next job is to wait for me outside the bathroom door while I shower. Once I am done showering, she can go back to sleeping under the couch until it is time for Justin to be woken up.

<insert 8-10 hours of sleeping>

I usually get home from work first and wake her up. She slowly trots out to greet me and falls at my feet for me to pet her. You do not walk any farther into the apartment until this has happened or it ruins her night. When our boyfriend gets home she runs to the door and falls at his feet for pets. Yes, he greets her first. Which I am okay with because I'm not really looking to lay on the floor at his feet by the door. Yet.

And then playtime begins. In her tiny kitty brain. While we are trying to do stupid human things like go to the gym or cook dinner or clean IT IS PLAYTIME CAN'T YOU HEAR ME MAKING ALL OF THESE NOISES?

Once she realizes that human things must be done, she settles in to hovercat position on the couch unless she hears a cheese bag open. Holy shit, do not loudly open any type of plastic bag because IS THAT CHEESE AND CAN I HAVE SOME? You will never hear a louder meow than when shreddy cheese is being opened. Or bags that sound like shreddy cheese. Or even say that word cheese and her fatass comes running. It's my new favorite thing.

When we sit down to eat (yes, on the couch) it is playtime YAY! While we eat, she sits in the corner by the front door and whines and smacks her tail against the wall to signal that it is playtime because you guys come one you've been home for 45 minutes and we haven't played not even once! Until we are done eating, she will either pout in the corner or jump on the coffee table and knock down/touch all the things. That remote? ON THE FLOOR HOW FUNNY!

When we, the humans, decide that it is playtime (or she has provoked Justin enough by running at him at full speed or attacking his feet) total chaos ensues. At the sound of one of us thinking about picking up the laser pointer, this happens:

This laser pointer situation is out of control, you guys, and I'm not sure it is healthy at all. She is a textbook addict. When we finish playing laser and set it on the coffee table, she lays with her paws on it. In real life.

And speaking of addictions, thanks to some fine smuggling by Michelle we have the nips back in our house. When we aren't feeling up to entertaining a cat for 3 hours straight, we bust out the nips and it takes care of life for us. Most of the time she will chill out after running around at full speed. Other times she doesn't stop running around, ever and we have to pull an intervention and remove the nips from her environment.

Between her meticulous daily schedule, OCD, and addictive personality the JMEOWW has been quit busy lately. In general, I feel like since moving in with her boyfriend she has been less stabby. But she is so much more of a needy girlfriend than I am and for that I am grateful. Thanks for making me look good, clingermeoww.

Oh, and she played some Trivial Pursuit.

A Very Meowwy Christmas.

Welcome, one and all, to a very special holiday edition of The JMEOWW Diaries. Life has been incredibly crazy and overwhelming as of late, so what could be better than some ridiculous cat photos full of holiday cheer?

Cats and Christmas go hand-in-hand. Like bunnies and Easter. Jack and coke. Water and electricity. All my cat ladies out there, you know what I mean. The trees, decorations, wrapping paper, tissue paper, bows, electrical cords. We are creating a winter wonderland for our little furry friends. And while I find it hilarious, it is quite destructive and annoying. This was us last year:

I eventually gave up at just let her occupy the tree and destroy the ornaments. It was too much, and also hilarious. This year she has been much, much better. Probably because she is a fat and too big for our fake tree. Also because since moving in with her boyfriend she has developed some actual manners. She hates to disappoint her Justin, she really does.

Although I miss the giggles that come along with tree destruction, we still have Kousin Khloe to fill that hole in our lives:

And if it wasn't for this, I'm sure my sister would've sold her to the gypsies by meow:

I told you she was crazier than me. But you know who is even crazier?

The owner of this little shithead. This little ocicat has been harassing me via text lately. How, you ask? He has an extra toe. Obviously.

And with that, I think this counts as my first random Wednesday...

The JMEOWW Diaries V.5

Welcome, fans of the queen beast. I am delighted to report that my precious monster seems to be growing out of her incredibly violent phase and is now only slightly violent, sometimes. With age comes wisdom, and also apparently hunting skills.

San Diego has been experiencing a disgusting and horrifying influx of grasshoppers. Which I confuse with crickets, and also dragons. They are awful. It is the second sign of the apocalypse, as far as I'm concerned. The first is the never ending 90-degree temperatures.

One night JMEOWW somehow enticed a disgusting grasshopper to enter my apartment by squeezing under the screen door. Then all hell broke loose. My sister and I started screaming. Justin started laughing. And J started running and meowing and had no idea what the fuck she was doing. Worst hunter. Ever. Every time the grasshopper jumped, we screamed, she meowed and he laughed. It was ridiculous. I was begging, begging Justin to kill it but he got all alpha and was like, NO WOMAN. SHE MUST LEARN HOW TO KILL PESTS. In this weird Thor voice.

I said fine but if she eats it, I'm disowning her. But I had little to worry about at that moment because my moronic cat could not even find the damn thing. Again, worst hunter in the entire world. Of course Justin helped her because he has some sort of death wish. When she finally caught it and had it in her mouth, part of my soul died. My little meoww was now a murderer (with evidence. not just alleged.). But it's good because she will rid the house of pests. That is probably what Charles Manson's mother said too.

The rest of the night she was on high alert. GRASSHOPPER? No, stupid. It's your shadow. You ate the grasshopper.

GRASSHOPPER? Ugh, NO. That was the wind blowing.

On a scale of 1 to the RHONJ, we are at about Guidice levels of intensity in my apartment between faux-grasshopper sightings and laser whining. Just wait until the move. I should schedule her counseling session now.

The JMEOWW Diaries V.4

Linking up for Jmeoww's life lately! Just kidding, but how great would that be. And by great I mean totally batshit insane.

• The Chronicles of Narnia & Empire State Building. Yes, I've started naming her behaviors. Because it entertains me at 11 pm when I should be sleeping but am watching her adventures on my bed. I realize how that statement sounds, but when I am in bed reading she has the best adventures. Much like how a toddler starts using their imagination, I firmly believe that J has started using hers. She will slowly go under the sheet and then spend like 10 minutes wandering around all crouched down. When she pokes her head out she has this look on her face like she just discovered the meaning of life. She alternates between this, and clinging to the corner of the bed and staring down. Like it is the highest bed ever made and she will die if she jumps. This is why I can't finish a book. It's hysterical.

• Kousin Khloe. My sister has gone full cat-lady. If she wasn't so busy being a cat lady, I'm sure she would blog about it. She's worse than me, if you can imagine that. So when I invited Brittany over for taco tuesday, she sends me this text message:

"I can haz tacos too?"

Like I can say no to that! I warned her of potential murder, but much like Kim Kardashian, Brittany does not travel without Skhloe. So J met her kousin. Which led to hours of hissing all of the hisses and very aggressive crouching. One would think it would get tiring being an asshole all of the time. Khloe touched all J's things and had the best night of her life, and I even sent her home with a toy. I'm an asshole, I know. J only likes one toy anyways, which leads us to...

• Lady. Lady. Mom. Laser. Mom? Please. Now. OMG. As soon as I walk in the door. No. As soon as I unlock the gate to get into my complex, it begins. The meowing. And meowing. So many meows. You have food. You have water. You have clean litter. Okay, FINE. Let's play catch the red dot that you will never ever catch and now your tiny brain is fried from thoughts of ever doing so. Even if it makes you pant because you are fat and it is one million degrees in my apartment. Which leads to me having a panic attack because I think you are dying. No really, this is my favorite game. We should play it ALL NIGHT!

The dying face. I can't stand it.

and finally...

• Bathtime! The animal that hates and attacks everything in the entire world loves the bath. Maybe not loves, but tolerates. What kind of insane bitch bathes her cat? This one, because said cat and said insane bitch cannot get rid of the fleas. Advantage, exterminator, obsessive vacuuming and sheet washing, foggers, and traps. We've tried it all. Anyways, the meoww does not try to kill me in the bath and I think that is just neat. Once I do let her out though, she goes and hides. Last time I found her on top of the refrigerator which is always shocking, but awfully hilarious.

Yes, my fridge is yellow.

And there you have it, faithful JMEOWW fans. Another monthly glimpse into the life of the world's most insane, and overanalyzed cat. Be sure to check back next month for the Halloween edition of JMD!

The JMEOWW diaries: SPECIAL EDITION

The Divine Miss Meoww is turning one (sometime I think, possibly this week, I'm not sure because she was feral...)! Because Justin wouldn't let me buy her a tiny hat and because cats actually can't taste sweet flavors, we are celebrating with shredded cheese and a laser pointer. He also convinced me that a party would be a complete nightmare for her because she hates people.

In one year she has accomplished SO much. She has: possibly killed her brother and allegedly her mother, ruined Christmas, peed her pants, set the world hissing record, made ZERO friends (but two boyfriends!), grown a fupa, gotten fleas three times, and has probably inspired an entire generation to NOT obtain a cat. Now if only she could catch that fucking red dot she would be the happiest meoww alive.

The face of an ANGEL.

She is also wondering why my
forehead looks so large.

We've come so far. But not really.