It's never going to happen

Remember the super cute collar I bought Chicory before I adopted her?





Well, it's never going to happen...

Oh Hai! I can haz your forgiveness?

Hey y'all... So, I know it's been a while. And I am really, REALLY SORRY. I just wish I had an better excuse other than I don't have the Internet at home and I'm really lame.

I iz very cute - please forgive my stoopid Caroline

Things are going so well with Ms. Chicory. I can pick her up and cradle her for at least five seconds before she goes berserk and leaps from my arms. She really loves to be pet and brushed. She sleeps in my bed for part of the night and always greets me when I come home from work.

Things have been going so well that I got upset. How am I EVER going to return to blogging? She's just too good and adorable. Well, I think Chicory knew how worried I was because when I woke up this morning, she had done this for me...

That was the party favor from Danielle's bridal shower

Aawwwwwww!! Basement Kitteh 4eva.

A Taste for the Finer Things

When I got home from work last night I went to see Chicory (under the bed), and since she hadn't eaten since the previous night I brought the wet food and treats with me.

Having just gotten home from work I took off my snow boots (UGH!) and coat then lay down on my bedroom floor. I was about to lift up the bed skirt to lure Chicory out of hiding when I noticed I was still wearing a ring on my right hand. This particular ring is a pearl surrounded by tiny diamonds, it's kind of blingy and I didn't want to scare her, so I took it off.

well hello there...

I started by tossing a treat towards her, and then another to get her closer to me. Then I switched to the wet food and eventually got her out from under the bed. (SUCCESS!) Being the sweet cat she is not only did she growl while licking the spoon, she even hissed at me when it was empty. Awww.

After a couple more spoonfuls she looked at me, looked at the ring, grabbed it in her mouth and began backing up under the bed!! I yelped, told her "NO!" and "Bad kitty," but it wasn't until I used the ol' reliable "tssst" from the South Park Dog Whisperer Episode that she dropped the ring and slunk away. And of course this led to sulking and a refusal of any more food.

On a side note, while poking my head around under the bed I noticed that she found the rest of the jingle bell ball toys I bought her because there are 4 under the bed when I've only given her 2!

The Bottom Drawer

There's not much to this post, but since I talk a lot about Chicory being in my bottom drawer I thought I'd give you a little visual:

Hellooooooo?

Chicory spends a lot of time sleeping and hissing in the bottom drawer of my dresser. This is unfortunate because (1) I can't see her and (2) She's getting all my PJs furry and (3) I can't get to my PJs without worrying if she's going to slash open my hand.

I take that back, it's not that I can't see her AT ALL, I mean in the picture above she's actually looking at me. It's just that I can't see much of her. Basically I see a tail or a paw. Like this:

There - Do you see it?

That's her paw. She's bracing herself into the corner in order to be as far away as possible from me.

Hug Therapy pt 2 - No means Yes and Hiss means Purr

Hug Therapy, in all honesty, seems like a really good idea. However, in retrospect, I don't think any other people I shared my plan with were supporting it. Probably for good reason.

Hug Therapy - the Good News: In the loosest definition of the word, I got to pet Chicory.

Hug Therapy - the Bad News: I may have also permanently scarred her against black gloves, green towels and dust pans.

Here's how it went down:

I came home from work and made sure she was under my bed, threw her a token kitty treat (hissssss), and then went to block her fridge hiding spot. I went back to the bedroom, changed into cat wrangling clothes, and began to poke a stick at her (Really, why does she hate me?). This scared her out and she bolted for the kitchen only to be FOILED by a giant shopping bag blocking her sneak-behind. She froze. I moseyed into the kitchen, she darted for the bed room. Curses! The door was closed. She frantically searched for somewhere to go, hissing all the way. Finally she darted back into the kitchen and under the island.

Now cornered, fur on edge and with the meanest scowl you've seen on a cat she turned to me as if to say "bitch!" which is quite the language for a 3 month old. I sat down in front of her and began coooooing, saying soothing things and telling her she was a sweet kitty. She must have know I was lying because she continued to growl/meow.

Then I turned to bribery by opening some wet cat food and feeding her a little on the tip of a knife. This was repeated until eventually she ate it while my hand was still under the island. Then I decided it wad time to put on the OJ gloves.

It's hard to describe what went down after that. There was A LOT of hissing and spatting and her jumping around and swatting at me, then growling and then trying to escape. Eventually, with the help of my cat wrangling tool - the dust pan - I pinned her against the wall (gently-ish) and with my hand in a leather glove under the towel I was able to lightly pet her. Five more minutes of the above process and I touched her without the towel (but still the glove).

She never looked happy and she bit me once, BUT I kind of petted her so it's like a success. When that was over I gave her a little more wet food and left her looking very put out in the kitchen.

Ears flat, bitch scowl on

The first attempt at Hug Therapy

By January 22 I'd had Little Miss Chicory for 6 days. Mom and I were concerned that she wasn't warming up to me. My parents both asked regularly after her wanting to know how things were going. My Mom also frequently sent articles on taming farel cats and kittens. One of the articles described what I now call "hug therapy." I love this article for many reasons - but mostly because it tells you to hug-rape the cat. And I quote: "Even if the animal doesn't seem to be enjoying the attention, she is. Hold the cat by the scruff of the neck if she attempts to leave." How good is that?!


I decided I had to do this. When I got home from work I tried to lure her into a false sense of comfort by giving her kitty treats. However as soon as she saw me stick my hand under the bed her ears flattened and she started hissing. I left the treat under there and of course she ate it. Hypocrite!

Later, as I sat on my bed, quiet, reading I saw her sneak out from under the bed and poke her head around, obviously trying to figure out where I was. I didn't want to freak her out, but I did think it would be a great time to get another picture of her. Knowing the iPhone (oh sorry, let me pick up that name I just dropped) makes a stupid shutter sound when you take a picture, I switched my phone from "on" to silent. Unfortunately she heard the phone vibrate and whipped around with terror in her eyes. She saw me sitting there and she darted back under the bed.

Potty needs must have won out though, because not too long afterwards I heard her in the kitchen scratching around in the litter box. No better time than the present to try hug therapy, right? I snuck out of my room and closed the door behind me. As soon as I rounded the corner to the kitchen she saw me and flipped out. Poop and litter went flying everywhere. She darted for the bedroom but finding the door closed she boomeranged around for a few minutes, hissing the whole time, as I stood still and tried to be non-threatening. Eventually she darted to the fridge and then BEHIND it. Obviously, there was nothing I could do at that point so I went to bed. After a little while I heard her come out and eat the food I'd left out.

But now, knowing where her super-awesome hiding spot is, I definitely have the upper hand. Kitteh-2, Caroline-2

A little background pt 2

(Tweets continued)

I'm wondering if I can give Chicory ambien.
OMG! That first night she howled. I'm pretty sure the upstairs and next door neighbors thought I was torturing her. I was woken up once and hour. And it wasn't just meowing. It was climbing on everything in my room and rustling the blinds. You know those gawd-awful plastic blinds that come standard in all dorms and 1st apartments? Those ones that make a racket if you so-much-as look at them sideways? Yes, those. She bumped into and moved them all night long. But definitely the greatest feat of hers was climbing the windows. I don't know if I have the architectural vocabulary to express this, but she was climbing the little pieces of wood which outline the panes of glass. And meowing at the moon. Ware-kitteh?

Chicory has now made my PJ drawer her newest sanctuary. She thinks she clever hiding in a closed drawer. She doesn't know I've had cats b4
She thought she was pretty smart. She thought I'd never find her. I did. She hissed. I think this was the first time I won one of our little battles.

Thoughts at 4 am: Is it possible Chicory IS the spawn of Basement Cat and I am, in fact, living a remake of The Omen?
Day two of the non-stop crying. I'm close to crying. I'm practicing deep breathing. This is where I started wondering (1) could she could be the reincarnation of some one who really disliked me and (2) is it possible for a 3 month old kitteh to kill someone. I've seen Final Destination AND Pet Cemetery 2. I know what I'm up against.

Not sure [of] what, but this is a bad sign of something: I've caught myself wishing I could email my cat at home to see how it's going over there
You know that scene in the movie Twilight (and if I know my audience, they do) where Edward and Bella are having dinner in La Push and he's confessing his mind reading capabilities and to prove it he starts summarizing every one's thoughts: "Money... Sex... Money... Sex..." And then he looks at the weird-o bartender and gives an odd (but dreamy) laugh and says "cat." Well that was me. If Edward had been in my office, 1) we'd be making out in the stacks and 2) it would have been "Beer... US Code... Cat?"