Meow. Meow. MEOW. MEE-OOOOWWW.
That is our cat. Nala. But when he acts like that he is Mark’s cat, Nala.
Nala and I have had a rocky relationship from the beginning. The week of Mark and I’s wedding, Mark’s parents were in town and we spent an evening playing dominoes. Nala spent the evening biting my ankles. Like FOR REAL biting my ankles. I did not know cats bit until that night.
Do you know how embarrassing it is to be attacked by your future step-cat in front of your future in-laws? You don’t? Well, let me tell you it’s mortifying. I tried to play it off as if that’s just how Nala and I roll, that this whole biting thing was normal for us. But Mark kept saying stuff like, “What’s wrong with Nala? What did you do to him?”
Yes, worry about your cat. Worry about the four legged creature that has no input whatsoever as to how much nookie you get. Let’s see how that works out for you.
Like I said, Nala and I have never gotten along.
Until one day I had an idea. What if I give Nala everything he wants? What if I feed him wet food whenever he wants? And make sure he always has the cleanest water possible? And stop everything I am doing to let him play with my foot when he wants? And never interrupt him when he falls asleep on my lap?
If I do all this then surely he will love me, and accept me as his mother.
So I basically started Mission: Wait on Nala, Hand and Paw with hopes that our relationship would be salvaged. The rule was that whatever he wanted he got. No questions asked.
Well, this brilliant plan has only done one thing: I have created a monster. A gray four-legged diva.
We are woken up to meows demanding food. It’s like he can’t even stand the idea of his food bowl being empty for longer than 30 minutes. Don’t I know he could die? Of starvation? What kind of mother am I?
Or been kept up late by meows demanding we let him play with his favorite toy in the whole wide world: a human foot. I am not real sure who told him he was Nala the Foot Slayer, but I’d like to give that person a great big “Thanks a freakin’ lot”.
Nala thinks he runs this house. And Mark says it’s my fault!
Mark: He was not this demanding before we got married…
Marie: What exactly are you trying to say?
Mark: I’m just saying he knew who was the boss before…
Marie: I’m pretty sure you just said that I was the worst cat mother ever and that you don’t want to have kids with me. How much of that did I get right?
Mark: I’m saying that you can tell him no sometimes. We don’t have to respond to every meow…
Marie: And I’m saying that I CAN’T SAY NO TO PEOPLE WITH PAWS!
I have spoiled our first born rotten, and am officially the worst cat parent in the world. And people wonder why I’m pretty sure motherhood is NOT for me…