Jimi’s New In Town…

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Jimi is my fourteen year old cat. He is NOT new in town. Sorry I cannot help the Seinfeld references. I have had Jimi since he was a wee kitten. Jimi is an asshole. I mean that in the most admirable of ways. Let me explain…

I got Jimi when I was working at Disney Feature Animation in 1999. I was wearing bib overalls this lovely day and went into the ladies room where a woman I worked with was washing poop off of him in the sink. This should have been a red flag of what was to come. I was not that surprised to see a woman washing a kitten in the bathroom at work… this is Feature Animation after all… a workplace full of eccentric artists and freaks galore… like going back to art school yet getting paid for it. I loved working there. Anyway… she asked me if I could hold him while she did her business, and it was all over. Yes she was giving him and all his brothers and sisters away and that is why she brought them all into work. So Jimi spent the rest of that work day in the bib of my overalls and the rest is as they say, history.

Baby Jimi

He has tortured me throughout the years. He was a holy terror as a kitten attacking me in the shower through the curtain, ripping my flesh to shreds whenever the idea occurred to him, pouncing on my feet and biting me as I slept through the futon covers. But all in all we went through thick and thin together, relationships coming and going, moving from state to state, job after job… he was my constant.

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I call this one “Synchronized Sitting”… circa 2006

Besides the random bitter attacks, other aspects that contribute to his overall assholiness are:

  • Once I brought another kitten home thinking (silly me!) since we lived alone just the two of us and I was working for a start up very long hours, that I could get him a buddy. I had that kitten less than 12 hours. He TORTURED it. He HOWLED and scratched and hissed at the door when I finally sheltered the lil one in the bedroom to get away from his horror. I was up all night and promptly returned the kitten the next morning, for the kitten’s sake. Sad and awful.
  • He has torn up my couches and furniture even though there is an abundance of various cat scratching posts, furniture and toys all over my house. I know… this is normal. Still makes me upset that I cannot buy nice furniture with him in my house.

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  • He STILL hisses and howls at Albert, my other cat that is now four and has lived with Jimi his entire life… and Albert does ask for it SOMETIMES but for the most part Albert could simply be walking by him and he hisses.
  • Jimi does not cover his lil golden nuggets in the litter box EVER. He just leaves the gift of love right on top of the litter so it permeates the entire house and gags me til my eyes are teary and I have to hold my breath and cover it for him.
  • There is a fine line of love with good ol Jimbo… he could be sitting on my lap purring LOUDLY and drooling out the side of his mouth where his fang is broken off (from when he was a young cat somehow) creating a disgustingly smelly pool of wetness on my shirt… as I pet him and rub his ears. All is well until you cross that invisible line only Jimi knows and he suddenly bites me REALLY hard and his head goes flat and he hisses and jumps off me…. Hmmm… ok…

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  • Jim likes to wake up at the crack of dawn and be let out on the screened in porch. Crack of dawn meaning somewhere between 5:30am and 6:30am depending on his whims. That would be fine if Jimi’s way of waking up did not involve him HOWLING to be let out and waking up the rest of the household including the dog that jumps off the bed and then needs to be let out and then it is over Johnny… it is also a mad dash to find Jimi’s puke so the dog does not find it first. So my morning because of Jim is startled out of bed and mad dashing.
  • That leads me to Jimi’s puking. Jimi is a long haired tabby. Jimi incessantly cleans himself. INCESSANTLY. Jimi pukes every single day, turds of a hairball mixed with food and water somewhere in the house… mostly on my couches, pillows, rug, cat bed, dining room table or spare bed. It is RANK. He also leaves Jimi tumbleweeds all over my house. These are tufts of hair that are somehow round with a nice little hole in the middle of them I imagine from his nails. They are everywhere and i am constantly vacuuming.

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But what REALLY makes Jim an asshole is when he shits somewhere in the house, out in the open… like the last couple of mornings. Let me back up a few…

So there is a stray cat in my neighborhood. He (I am just assuming) likes to come into my yard, drink out of my pool, and I imagine he marks it up really nice as well. I have found cat turds in my front yard in the mulch among my landscaping…. I have not seen any in the back but that does not mean they are not there. I know sometimes he nests in the front yard too and when all the windows were open during the winter this year I heard him in the back yard jumping the fence and knocking things over.

Well Jimi sees this cat. Smells him. I have found them nose to nose through the screen on the back porch. I know Jimi has peed on the porch because of this cat, and he has left some turds out there too. And now for some reason Jimi feels it is necessary to mark my LIVING ROOM with his feces to show this cat, who is outside my now closed up air conditioned house, that this is Jimi’s House.

So here we are Monday morning of this week. I had a rough night’s sleep because the dog is still sleeping on the bed kicking the shit out of me all night but he has such separation anxiety that he will not sleep on his own dog bed on the floor. YET. (we are working on this) Jimi gets up with his usual howling at 5:30am. IT IS DARK. I am frustrated and I throw the covers off me cursing at him telling him to come on so I can let him on the porch so he shuts up. Dog jumps off the bed like ” OOOooo ooooo where we goin’?!!” and I stumble in the dark into the kitchen and promptly step barefoot into a puddle of puke.  AAACK!!!!

I hop in the dark over to the kitchen sink and wash off my damn foot. I dry it with paper towels I am surprised I could find in the dark… all the while Jimi is howling and hissing at the dog who is trying to lick up the puke which I have to referee while I clean my foot… and I walk into the living room to open the back slider to let him out….

When it hits me….

Like a smack in the face with a litterbox of uncovered Jimi turds…

WHERE IS IT???? Holy shit (no pun intended) it is still dark in here and I am barefoot and this is my LIVING ROOM FOR GODSAKES!!!!

Jimi  is out… I get the lights turned on and there it is. Right next to my guitar and CD shelves. A nice big warm pile of Jimi just stinking up the living room – on my carpet.

Sidenote: I hate carpet. Just thought I would throw that out there. Someday when I can afford to re-floor my entire 1900 sq ft house I will install easily cleanable wood floors.

Anyway… I gag picking up poop. ALWAYS. Even outside. Like seriously GAG… my eyes water, I cough, I pretty much hold down the urge to wretch with all my might. I clean it up while gagging and coughing, and wash my hands and light an incense and make coffee all while coughing the rest of the morning. I went for a really long run that day…

Now I know this is because of the stray. I get what he is doing. We went through this before when Albert first got here… marking boundaries etc etc… It does not make it any more acceptable or easier to deal with.

And then there was this morning. Again Jimi wakes up around 6am… HOWLING… he wakes the dog up and of course creates the morning dash which is now part of my repertoire. Running into the living room yelling at the dog because he is black and cannot be seen in the dark, the sliding door is open and out goes Jimi and then I smell it. AGAIN???!!! Lights go on… dog is in the corner by the guitar and CDs sniffing around and I yell at him to lay down. He does…. and I look… and look…. I can smell it… but where is it??????????

No poop. BUT I SMELL IT.

Oscar had to have eaten it because the search ended with no poop being found.

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And that folks is where I will end this story. Because if I go on the gagging will start all over again and it took a long run and some morning outside time to get it to stop this morning.

I will say this… I cannot kiss my dog today without thinking about him eating what is the most disgusting part of Jimi aside from his breath.

Oh…

And… Jimi is an asshole.

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~ by Michelle Sammartino-Zeto on April 24, 2013.

One Response to “Jimi’s New In Town…”

  1. I have a few of these assholes myself. I don’t know who invented this idea that we were going to feed and service them and they were going to lie around licking themselves, but it’s a pretty one-sided deal. I think they laugh themselves to sleep. Twenty hours a day.

    Thanks for the laugh. And the honesty!

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