I told Morgan I was going to blog about my cat a lot but I don’t think she believed me. In an effort to prove her wrong, I wanted to talk about 6 adventures I’ve had for the 6 months that I’ve owned Finley! (Sorry, Morgan).
For those who have no idea who Finley is, she’s my 9-month-old seal point Siamese kitten. She’s 50% a wild child, 40% cuddly and 10% part giraffe because she can pretty much rotate her neck 360 degrees. She likes to dedicate her mornings to leaping onto Morgan’s back in an attempt to irritate her and I’m not saying I coax it on… but I kind of do. Shhh.
Also, when I mean adventures, I don’t mean happy adventures. These are complete-panic-I’m-broke-how-can-I-afford-this-are-you-SERIOUS?!-Finley adventures. While I didn’t find any of them amusing while they were happening, it’s a little bit fun to reflect on them now. That cat-mom life, man. It ain’t easy. (Or perhaps Finley just isn’t easy. Which is it?)
1) How do I begin with this story? I’ll give you a little background on the situation first before I dive into it. Back in May, Morgan was given flowers for her birthday. (Her birthday is May 13th). I remember thinking “aw, how pretty” and going on about my day. The flowers were in a vase that was sitting on our barstool counter. Now occasionally, Finley hops up on the counter because she likes to be up high. And misbehave. And annoy us. One morning when I woke up, I walked into the kitchen and noticed some of the flowers were chewed. It appeared that a certain someone had hopped on the counter during the night.
My first reaction was that freakin’ Finley was misbehaving, climbing up there and eating the flowers. At first I freaked out but then I had the thought of “well, they wouldn’t ever sell plants as household bouquets to pets if they were poisonous. She’s fine, Alex. Chill out.”
Oh so very wrong.
Anyways, I berated her a bit for eating them and went about my day. About an hour later, she started puking.
I, naturally, started freaking out and immediately called the vet. Keep in mind that we live in Beverly Hills and the vet expenses here are no joke. Anytime I have to call the vet here, my meager wallet dies a little inside. 6 months with Finley has made it shrivel up to be honest.
When I got ahold of the vet and explained what was happening, he immediately asked if there were any lillies in the bouquet. I texted him a couple of photos of the flowers and he asked me to bring in Finley immediately.
Here is a PSA! Why might he have said that? If you didn’t know, lillies are extremely poisonous to cats. A small and simple lick can kill them. How scary is that?
The bouquet did indeed include lillies. They weren’t sure if Finley had actually licked any of them, as they weren’t actually chewed like the other plants. But because a simple lick can do severe damage, Finley ended up having to stay at the hospital for 3 days to be tracked. She was hooked up to an IV, had bloodwork done, etc. It was a mess.
She ended up being okay and the vet told me she didn’t lick the lillies…thanksfully. The moral of this story is though to never buy lillies if you own a cat(!!!) Don’t you do it! Props to you if you already knew this but the more I talk to people, the more I realize this isn’t commonly known. Don’t buy them. Your pet AND wallet will thank you.
And in case you were wondering, any form of plant has formally been banned from our home. If you attempt to bring them in our apartment, I will chunk them off the balcony. This is a warning ahead of time. ;
2) Finley has this weird fixation on dresser drawers. Anytime I open one to put something in it in my room, she stops what she is doing and LEAPS as fast as she can across the room to try to dive into that dark space behind the drawer. Like, full on embraces her inner cheetah and sprints to the dark space like her life depends on it. It is terrifying and quite frankly, half the time I think she’s possessed. If your cat does this as well, please drop a comment so that I know there isn’t a demon in Finley.
Thank you. My peace of mind depends on this.
Anyways, when she was a kitten, I didn’t know about this ridiculous obsession of hers. One time, I left my dresser drawer open as I was folding laundry. All of a sudden, I see this tiny white body run and leap into the dresser and go behind the open drawer.
Here’s the kicker to this story.
I couldn’t get her out.
The space was too small to reach behind there and the dressers won’t come out of my drawer. I literally was yelling her name and panicking for 30 minutes. She was just meowing and hanging out back there but wouldn’t budge from the spot. If I shut the drawer, she would have been squished.
I literally had a panic attack and was seconds away from calling the fire department.
Why the fire department, might you ask? I, for some reason, view them as the savior of cats. I guess the visual of them saving cats from trees was stuck in my mind. YOLO.
RIGHT as I was dialing to call them, Finley decided to pop her head out of the dresser and reemerge.
(Pretty much the exact face she made when popping out of the dresser).
It was one of those moments that felt like it was scripted in a movie…except it wasn’t. She has now given me PTSD from dressers and anytime I open one, I have to block her with my body like a linebacker to prevent her from going back into the dark mysterious hole again.
I can’t do it anymore. I’m exhausted. I think I just decided to sell my dresser actually.
3) Back in May, Morgan & I decided to return home to Texas to visit the family during Memorial Day weekend.
I decided to bring Finley with me because “ADVENTURES! Bringing a cat on a plane sounds like such an ADVENTURE! She’s going to love it!”
This was my exact thought process and a terrible mistake.
I will say that flying from LAX to Dallas with Finley was easy. She was so confused by where she was that she forgot to meow. I did leave her with Morgan for a purposely long extended period of time at the airport when Morgan was eating lunch so that she would look like a crazy cat lady who brings her cat everywhere and dines with her.
I’m evil, I know.
I sat in the bookstore and watched people giving Morgan really weird stares for a bit. This is what I do for entertainment.
Once we landed in Texas, all was well for a couple of days. She had a new house to run around in, got a couple of car rides and was given plenty of treats by my parentals. (She sounds spoiled, right? Accurate).
On our second to last day there however, she started getting really whiney. Like, REALLY whiney. It got so bad that she was sitting on the kitchen floor wailing.
All of a sudden, it hit me.
She was going through heat.
And I was like “Nooooo, no, no, no, no” as I knew she was going to have to get on a 4-hour long airplane ride soon.
My worst nightmare came true, and she went through her first round of heat while on the airplane from Dallas to Los Angeles. I tried really hard to make her be quiet but absolutely nothing worked. She wailed throughout the entire flight and it was the single most mortifying thing that has ever happened to me. I’ve always been the kind to get a little irritated at screaming kids on planes but Finley going through heat made them look tame. The worst part was that this was a night flight too and people wanted to sleep.
Don’t you worry though. Finley made sure that wasn’t a possibility. 🙂
My poor neighbor next to me was visibly leaning away from me and the cat the entire time. I’M SO SORRY NEIGHBOR! If you read this ever, I sincerely apologize for causing your ears to bleed. I tried everything to get her to shut up- petting her through the cage, treats, water, ice, toys, etc. Nothing worked. I lost that battle.
Once we landed, I sheepishly got off the plane and gave everyone apologetic smiles. I then darted out of the airport, called the Uber and got her in my apartment as soon as possible. The first thing I did the next morning was make a vet appointment to get her spayed.
The second thing I did was make a commitment to never take her on a plane again.
Traumatized for life. Finley has traumatized me for life. Please let that be my legacy. Someone write that on my gravestone.
4) Speaking of going into heat, I have another adventure that I should mention that occurred the week Finley got spayed.
Everyone has heard of the cone of shame, right? Right? I so naively assumed that if other cats got through the 7-10 days with the cone, Finley would be JUST like them and be able to as well after getting spayed.
I’m always wrong. Do you see a trend here?
Once she got spayed, the vet gave her this horrifically uncomfortable plastic cone to wear around her head. The first couple of hours were great because she was so drugged out that I remember thinking, “this isn’t so bad!”
Perhaps I jinxed myself there.
Once the medicine wore off, she turned into a MONSTER. No matter how tight I tightened the string that went around the cone and that tied around her neck, she managed to shake it off. I kid you not, she managed to escape the cone of shame in under 10 seconds every time I put it on her. Not only that, but she would buck around like a horse and I was like “WHY IS THIS HAPPENING AND HOW DO I CONTROL THIS.” As soon as she mischievously got the cone off, she would start licking her stitches. I was freaking out because there was no way I could afford the surgery again and I was cursing out my cat from under my breath about why she couldn’t just be normal.
I remember frantically calling Petco and asking if they had a cloth cone I could purchase for her. I assumed the plastic cone hurt and that’s why she was freaking out. Again, so young and so naiive. I made Morgan hold her down and sprinted out the door to go pick that up. When I got back to my apartment and put the new and hopefully improved cone on…
She did the exact same thing.
*Please insert a mental image of a psychotic Finley here.*
By this time, it was getting late in the evening. I knew that the cone wasn’t going to work and I started googling solutions. Someone mentioned baby onesies and I was desperate to give anything a try. I drove to Target and sprinted around the store trying to find a newborn onesie.
I went to TJ Maxx trying to find a newborn onesie.
Finally, Ross came through for me. I proudly brought home 3 bright pink and yellow newborn onesies complete with ruffles on the butt. BUTT RUFFLES! I whipped out a pair of scissors and cut it up to fit Finley.
You might think the story ends here, but it doesn’t.
For a full 24 hours, she sulked in a corner in the onesie because she couldn’t get it off. Life was good. It was the happiest times of my life.
…She then figured out how to get the onesie off.
At night, she would get completely under the covers and somehow use the covers as leverage to wiggle out of the onesie. Every night. She then eventually figured out how to use the couch to wiggle out of it too.
My life for the next week or so considered of coming straight home from work and chasing a cat around the house in an effort to tackle her and wrestle a baby onesie on her. It was again traumatic and we both hated every second of it. I also made Morgan be on tackling duty when I was gone at work during the day. Anyone think she regrets living with me? 😉
All I know is that I’m never doing this again. Never again. Nope. Done. Over it. Blocking baby onesies from my memory forever.
5) This adventure happened more recently and I actually got a kick out of it instead of having a collapse-on-the-ground meltdown. Miracles do exist!
I was opening the door to go do laundry and a dog from the apartment next to me was randomly waiting outside of it. It’s almost like he sensed Finley was in there and he wanted to mess with her. As soon as I cracked opened the door, he nudged his way inside and started sprinting around the apartment. Finley has never encountered a real-life dog before and is used to ruling her own personal space. As soon as the dog spotted her, he started chasing her and the cat TOOK OFF. I’ve never seen her move so fast and they were literally chasing each other around in a circle in the living room. The owner eventually came and got her dog but I was just sitting on the barstools watching the show go down and enjoying karma get Finley for once.
*Insert gif of eating popcorn, here.*
For all the money and scares she’s put me though, you better believe I enjoyed every second of that chase.
6) A couple of weeks ago, I brought Finley down to check the mail with me. It a floor below me and I bring her with me all the time to get her out of the apartment for a bit. For some reason, this time around, she spazzed out. By spazzed, I mean she was pretty much convulsing and wiggling out of my arms in a matter of seconds. She managed to jump out, leap over my head, scratch up my back and try to jump up into a door. (Like seriously. She was trying to jump into a door. Is she possessed? Someone help me. If you’re a cat whisperer, contact me).
She then realized leaping into doors hurt and turned back the other way. Because I do have bad luck, right as she went crazy on me, a neighbor opened up the door in the lobby that leads into the garage. Finley then decided to run into the dark garage and hide from me.
I was freaking out.
Like, FREAKING out.
I couldn’t see where she went. The scariest part was that the garage has slits for gates for where cars enter. She could easily run outside. I didn’t have my phone for a flashlight or to call for help. I remember distinctly thinking that she was gone forever, all because I decided to check my mail for a freakin’ credit card bill or something.
Luckily though, a neighbor entered the parking garage right as I was having an inner panic attack. I asked her to watch the area to see if Finley made the move to dart outside and I sprinted upstairs to grab my phone. When I got back down to the garage, nothing had changed so I started crawling under cars trying to find her.
Luckily, I found her calm, cool and collected self tucked away behind this dirty truck in the corner. I managed to wedge my body under there and snatch her back up.
All ended up being well but it’s important to note that if kittens could end up being grounded, she would’ve been grounded for a solid year. Maybe two if we’re being honest.
Also, trips outside have ended. Checking the mail is no longer a thing. She can view the great outdoors from the lovely window view on the balcony and I’m not budging on that one. Sucks2suck.
Cats may have 9 lives but Finley has caused me to lose years off of mine. She’s cute and cuddly and worth it but oh man. It’s a lot. I’m 99.9% positive I have a couple of new wrinkles from the 6 months that I’ve had her.
Thanks a lot.
I suppose it’s time to make her an Instagram influencer so that I can pull in some cash and use that money for some Botox to fix the wrinkles.
Or am I?
(I just found her eating out of her food bag in the pantry. Apparently today when I was at work, she chewed a hole in the bag. Another wrinkle was just added).