Recently, I have been struggling with who to turn to in times of the melodrama in my life. Usually I have a list of people who I go to for certain things in my life. For example, I go to my boyfriend for financial issues (if you know me there is deep, deep irony in that), I go to his boyfriend for relationship trouble, I go to my best friend for everything (boyfriend issues and fitness relapses), I go to my grandma for all complications in life and well, I think you get were I am going with this.
For the past two months, (although I still go to these people in times of need), I have been experimenting with another alternative. You see, I feel as though I am constantly burdening these people when I go to them with my troubles. So I’ve decided to have a life coach (this is my alternative).
Meet Olive. (if you read my previous blogs you’ve met her already). To answer you question: YES, it’s just silly and fucking weird to have a cat as a life coach, especially one with anger management issues. But what the fuck do I care, I feed her, I clean her shitter, I brush her, I let her watch me shower, watch me eat, watch me sit on the crapper, I let her sit on my lap during intense gaming sessions, I let her eat my food…basically this kitty owes me.
I believe Olive to be a reflection of myself, and when you can see that reflection in front of you, on another being it can put things into perspective, even if’s a hyper-active-bi-polar cat from the streets.
Olive, like me loves to sleep. I’m telling you, us ladies pass the fuck out at just the thought of sleeping. Our half hour naps turn into four sessions of floating on clouds with Obi-wan Kenobi. When my alarm goes off for the second, third, fourth time, Olive knows it’s time to stretch her kitty limbs and walk her ass over to me face and wake me up. In fact even when I have terrible nightmares I’m always woken up by Olive sticking her ass in my face (I swear she’s trying to fart).
When I come home from work or anywhere really, she greets me with a big HELLO or WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN!?! She’s got some attitude this one.
Whenever I’m on the computer, usually writing, but playing the occasional WoW or chatting with the parental units on Skype, Olive is right there. Usually, on the printer, on the desk, on my lap or on the computer. It’s cute for the first couple minutes, but it only takes a little bit before who eyes start ripping apart your soul.
She is a little carnivore. I love my meat. This cat eats things bigger than her. She downs sausage faster than I deep throat……ahem. In short, she is no vegetarian.
When I do my home workouts, she is always there, either doing her cat stretch on my yoga mat or doing cardio laps around the place, bouncing off walls like a cat like thief ninja. HIYAH!
When company comes over, this woman is fierce and territorial. She may be a cat, but she ain’t no pussy. She strongly dislikes everybody that comes into our apartment, including my boyfriend half the time. Almost anything that comes into our apartment that is talking and walking or look like it should be, she is on her guard and lets all those poor bastards know it. I buy her toy mice every week and after she scalps them within a few minutes of me giving it to her, she hurls them off the balcony. Bitch. Even though this part of her aggravates me and annoys the shit out of me, I feel I could learn something from it.
So back to my life coach cat theory. I can talk to Olive and tell her about anything and know she won’t say a fucking word, even in the unlikely chance she is listening it is still nice to vent to her. But yes, I know she doesn’t give a shit.
She watches me and my man rub naughty bits. Yeah, it’s creepy, but hey she ain’t judging and that’s a nice feeling. Sometime when things are getting hot and heavy between me and my man, I can just shoot her a look and she looks at me with approval. In my mind she is saying, You did good kid, real good!
I don’t know how this happens, but somehow anytime I hurt myself, whether it’s dropping a hammer on my foot or being constipated, in those moments of pain and complete discomfort she does something hilarious. She’ll roll out of the closet, or smoke her head on the class window. Once time she got stuck in my man’s skivvies after I started crying after I bang my foot on the corner of the dresser. I literally dribbled in my pants I was laughing so hard. This cat is hilarious. Life coaches should be funny. Laughter is good!
Let me delve in a little bit about Olive’s past. When she was about 3 months old we met. I was on my way to the beach and a gentleman walks on the bus and Olive falls out of his backpack. She looks up at me. I swear she looked just like my old cat Gertie who was a huge obese mammoth of a kitty. (Olive however, not obese). The man who had her said he found her, in an alley way. Apparently, her mother was attempting to kill her. He took her, and put her in his backpack. This man had no money and was looking for some cash for a quick fix. I caved. I couldn’t resist this funny looking cat. So 30$ later, I become the proud owner of Olive (back then her name was 6 pack, but I don’t want to talk about it). This kitty went from riches to rags and that in itself is kind of inspiring. (Gawd, I’m sad..)
She follows me everywhere I go in the apartment. Me and this cat are just that close. I don’t know what I would do without this crazy ass kitty. I love her. Therefore I nominate her as my life coach. Like I said, she fucking owes me. So friends who I usually go to for certain complications and issues in life, if I stop going to you then that I think would be a good thing. However, if I start shitting in the litter box, and licking my flaps with my leg outstretch over my head, help a sister out. It clearly means Olive, is a terrible life coach. But until that moment happens, Ciao my people.