CAT PASTIMES

Photo by Kazuky Akayashi on Unsplash

My favorite part of the quarantine is that we are all forced to be alone with our thoughts, but everyone is like, ‘Absolutely not. I will learn how to do taxes instead.’ Boredom, cabin fever, and the inability to be alone with our thoughts during the COVID-19 lockdown has everyone everywhere coming up with more and more ways of passing the time during the quarantine. This story is a candid look at how our feline friends are surviving isolation during the pandemic.


Photo by Christina Hernández on Unsplash

If you’re like me, you really don’t know your cat’s exact birthday. The closest I can get to each of my three feline’s birthdays is the month and year. And then I’m not even certain about that. But I just read a post on Reddit (r/cats) about starting a new birthday celebration for our fabulous felines by dedicating one day a year to celebrating their collaborative birthdays, and in 2020 that day is Saturday, June 20th — the first day of summer solstice. I love it!


It’s gonna be hotter than a billy goat’s butt in a pepper patch!

Photo by Ava Sol on Unsplash

I’ve been dreading summer since the end of last summer. I’ve just simply gotten to the point where I can no longer tolerate the heat and humidity anymore. I sweat like a whore in church.

When friends text me and want to go out to eat, I dread it because I know I’ll be sweating from the time I arrive until the time I leave the sweaty ass stamp in the restaurant chair. And I hate feeling sweaty. I take about three showers a day in the dead of summer, and speaking of “dead” I start smelling dead every time…


and my search for a cure

Photo by Glen Hodson on Unsplash

So I’ve been having recurring dreams about my old boss. No, not one of those *cough* dreams. These dreams are actually dreams about working at the same place I quit over a year ago. The dreams are always different. Different places. Different situations. But always starring my same old boss who, after two-and-a-half years of constant and over-the-top, meticulous oversight and yelling “Hurry up!”, made me want to leave accounting to become a truck driver (or any-god-damn-thing) to get the hell out of that place. Fucking control freak.

Last night I dreamed I was in the middle of having sex…


And Cannabinoid Hyperemesis Syndrome.

Photo by Grav on Unsplash

Over the summer I applied for and received my Medical Marijuana card, after completing a mound of paperwork and coughing up $200 for the doctor’s visit and $50 to the State of Arkansas for the card. On my first visit to the dispensary, I picked up three different products for my fibromyalgia, setting me back another two Benjamin’s.

The dispensary was shiny and new. It hadn’t been open for more than a couple of months, and everything still had the price tags and that new smell. Sterile. I was ID’d and allowed through a locked door, and when I walked…


Ritz — my luxuriously-soft, black-and-white Tuxedo Kitty — loves a good chase.

She blitzes through an open doorway. Her razor-sharp claws search for traction on the smooth, hardwood floor — her Fred Flintstone feet power her in a surge of pure energy. She arcs and glides across the living room floor with the speed and finesse of an Olympic ice skater. Flawlessly, she navigates an ottoman, vaults herself off a chair, and does three full rotations in the air to perform a triple Lutz.

And then…

Nothing.

Not a sound.

Not a sight.

Not even a tail.

Poof

She is gone.

Ritz has evaporated into thin air.

I know Ritz is…


Photo by Ehimetalor Unuabona on Unsplash

Growing up I always wondered what it was like to be normal. At an early age I began to watch other people and observe how they stood when they talked. What did they do with their arms and hands? How were their expressions? I felt like an alien trying to infiltrate the human race. What was normal? How could I act normal? Why couldn’t I be normal?

Normal is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.

— Charles Addams

My brother sexually abused me from the age of seven to seventeen. He was physically…


Photo by Melinda Gimpel on Unsplash

If you’re like me, you may not have the best of luck and you may very well suck at handling your personal finances. I’ve done bookkeeping and payables for years, but when it comes to balancing my own checkbook… I don’t. I also haven’t planned for the future but rather lived for today. I’m 51 and have no retirement. And now I’m in the middle of a bankruptcy. My second in sixteen years. Gulp.

The thing that pushed me over the edge this time was accepting a job offer to become an over-the-road truck driver (which I have also written…


Photo by Jari Hytönen on Unsplash

I once considered myself a cat expert. I’ve had cats my whole life, and I thought I knew everything there was to know about them. But I was wrong. It seems like every single day I’m learning something new about these furry little predators that have wormed their way into my heart and home.

For starters, cats are sneaky little critters. If you think you’re the only person drinking out of that iced beverage, think again! I thought I had each of my three cats trained to stay off the kitchen counters. What I realized was they had been trained…


Photo by Cole Patrick on Unsplash

I might have put on a few extra pounds in my fifty-one-and-a-half years. I might have put on a hundred pounds. After four kids, a sedentary lifestyle and a voracious appetite, I am nearly twice my high school graduation weight. Oh. My. Gawd. What have I done?!

For starters, I haven’t been good to myself. I know what I should be doing — eating less and moving more. It’s simple. There’s no magic pill, no magic bullet, no secret. There’s no one-size-fits-all. There’s only one way. And that’s through it. Not around it, not under it. Not over it. …

Stephanie Frank

Stephanie enjoys helping others. She works with individuals with disabilities and writes about the trials and tribulations of cats. And life. :)

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