Posted by: kristabella | December 17, 2006

Meet My Zoo

So since I apparently think that I am 22 again and was out until after 2 on both Friday and Saturday nights, you will get yet another lame post. (And I have book club on Monday night, so we might have another lame-o one. Be warned.) I am tired and just got back from dinner. And I need my sleep. Or this is about to be one cranky-ass blog.

So here we go. I have two cats. You’ve seen them here before. They don’t like it when I go out of town.

And yes, I’m so going to turn into that old spinster with 8 cats. I’m 1/4 of the way there bitches.

So I thought I would formally introduce you.

Simba is my mom’s cat I inherited. She couldn’t keep them anymore, so I gave Simba a good home. Her other cat, Tanny (who drools. Seriously), my sister gave a good home. Simba, or Cat Choi, is a good kitty. Very friendly. Loves people. Is quite needy. He’s a fan favorite.


Kitty in a basket!

Simba is a Chenier cat. My sister in law’s family has a greenhouse and they always had strays. And they so used to mate with each other. So, all the cats are somehow related. Because their mom slept with their brother or cousin or something. So they’re all a little off. 

My other cat is Willow. But I’ve never called her Willow. I call her Kitty-Kitty. And I got her in California. So she was the first kitty of my very own. She’s a big hairball, and seriously resembles a chunk of dryer lint. See? (Actually, my dryer lint usually looks just like this (minus the eyeballs) since she sheds like a mothafucker!)


Put the camera down, bitch! (And don’t I have a pretty duvet?)

So I adopted Kitty-Kitty from the animal shelter in September 2004. I picked her out easily. Mostly because she was the only one awake. That was my first mistake. I might have been a little better off with a sleepy kitty. Not a crazy one.

The shelter people tell you when you bring home new pets to lock them in a small room, like the bathroom, to let them get used to their surroundings and being out of a cage, etc. Because when you let them out when you first bring them home, they’ll probably go hide under the bed and never come out to eat or use the litter box. And we don’t want that.

Not Kitty-Kitty. She came home and immediately was running all over and sniffing and claiming it ALL AS HER OWN! Silly human! Mwah ha ha.

But that first night, I figured I should probably listen to the shelter people. So I locked her in my room with me, with her food, water and litter. That was my second mistake.

All night she was in the litter box. Flinging litter against what sounded like the side of the litter box. My third mistake. I woke up the next morning and there was the litter box. And a pile of litter NEXT to litter box. Needless to say, that was the last night she was locked in my room with me. And I also went out the next day and bought one of those litter boxes with a hood.

Oh, and she eats paper. Anything made of paper. I had my expense check on the kitchen table, and it had a little kitty tooth hole in it. Paper bags, wrapping paper, you get the idea. I have to hide the presents like I have kids or something, otherwise everyone knows what they’re getting. Since there are chew holes in the paper. Maybe she’s part dog.

So there you have it. My cats that are treated better than most humans.

(And what we like to call a completely lame, cop out post. But you’ll like. Because I said so!)



  1. ok, if you’re writing a blog, i am going to write one on your site, since i don’t have my own site. sooooooooooo, as some of you may heard, seattle had a huge rain/wind storm thursday night. that night the lights went out (the party’s over…). it’s fun at first, say for like, oh, the first fuckin’ 20 minutes, then you realize you can’t see shit and may miss the toilet. luckily for me i stole a flash light from work, and had a smelly candle, ’cause, as i’ve heard, chicks dig smelly candles. so i survived on that for like, oh, 10 minutes then went to dinner in civilization 39 minutes north and then to my friends scott’s hizouse. woke up, went to work on friday and came home around 4 pm to a 42 degree condo. cold as ice i packed up my stuff and went to dinner. after that back to canada where there is electricity, buy a gallon of vodka, bottle o’ wine and some cherry 7ups for “electric pinks” (cherry 7up and vodka), don’ t ka-nock it until you’ve tried it, people. you’ll be hooked and owe it all to kristabella’s (or whatever the hell she calls herself) friend, $tabone, and don’t forget the $ sign. so there are 9 others there that don’t have power for 2.5 days and the random gathering turns in to drunkfest 2006 in a matter o’ minutes. all of a sudden it’s apocalypto on that ass and all hell breaks out, shots, drinks, karaoke, tangerine fights, spilled drinks and card games abound. abound, not even sure if that’s a word, so deal with it. so at noon today, some 55 hours without power, it comes back on and can now make my day complete by reading kj’s blog. quite the lerrrrrve story, i know. oh yeah, and cats are useless and the seahawks still have a shot at the 2-seed in the playoffs, or miss them altogether. oh, the nfc…

  2. Um, are you still drunk? And thanks for reading, and posting, but puh-lease get your own site. 🙂

    And for the love of God, if you get the 2 seed, there is something wrong in the world. No team that loses twice (TWICE!) to the Niners should be in the playoffs, let alone the 2 seed.

    See you in Chicago in January. If you’re lucky.

  3. I love Simba and Willow!

  4. Damn. Once again I am reminded of the fact that I need to meet $tabone… ‘lil bro of DG. And I feel like I know you through KJers’ stories. And just because I know DG from the work thang.

    All right. It’s settled. Next time we’re in Sea-town, we must meet up… And we must drink electric pinks. ELECTRIC PINKS?!

    Hmmmm. Maybe we can move part of the annual Kristabella bday shindig west? Just a lil’ bit?

  5. Julie, I can’t believe you read that whole thing. Props to you.

  6. Oh, and the kristabella birthday shindig this year, for the BIG THREE OH, is going to be on a Cubs rooftop. Mark your calendars!

  7. Count me in!

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