Lately, my cat, Scrappy, has been following me around like an extremely pompous thing.  When I first got her she was prone to hiding under my bed for hours on end, only coming out when she was hungry or needed to use the litterbox.  Now, she is used to the house now (I got her about a month ago, click here for that entry), and she follows me around EVERYWHERE.

Here, this is the look I get every five seconds when I turn around, and have to look down as to not trip over the cat, Scrappy.

No, that’s not a trick of the light, her left eye really is purple - she scratched it when she was itching herself, and now the vet figures she can see, but her eyes will always be that color because she scratched the cornea.  I think that is why I call her, affectionately, “Genius.”

Most of the pictures are of her meowing while in that sitting position, because she loves to meow when she wants attention. Do you have ANY idea how long it took me to figure that out? The first 500 times she looked up at me with this exact same look and meowed it was like this:

MEOW

“What?”

MEOW!

“What??”

MEOW!

“Timmy fell down the well?”

MEOW!

“And he needs my help by bringing a ladder and some rope?”

MEOW!

Then, once I realized that she wanted me to pick her up and give her attention, the meowing stops for a few hours while she goes and contents herself by staring at a wall or whatnot, then comes back for more attention a little while later.

Normally that is the position I get after I get a shower or get up after I sit for awhile on the couch. And sure, it’s cute the first seventy times I turn around to see her sitting/laying there, and most of the time I say with affection:

“ARGHHHHHHHH!” Right before I sprain my ankle trying not to step on her.

Yeah, cute, right before she tries to kill you by taking up the ENTIRE FLOOR SPACE with her body.

Lately she has also been amusing herself by staring at walls. It must be hard to be a cat. All of that wall to stare at and not enough time in the day. Of course, as SOON as I make any sort of sound, her head turns so fast I’m afraid it’s going to crack right off.

This time, I made a soft clucking noise to get her to turn and then I snapped this picture. Pretty much how she always looks, especially when she is lying on the stairs and she hears me moving around, I see her head pop up between the railing boards as if to say “DID SHE MOVE?! Pet me now??”

And finally, I give to you a movie that I made today. No, there are no camera tricks, that is the actual size of one of my cats (Scrappy, the Cat-Shadow), although some might argue that the camera adds 10 pounds, the last time I took my cat to the vet it was 9 pounds so the camera can’t add that much!

And in case you are wondering, she ACTUALLY does that thing where she “hops up” when I am petting her. You can see it really well when she launches herself at the camera, meowing right before she plops down. This was about the 7th take and I haven’t picked her up yet, so at the end you can see her just staring at me as if she wanted me to spontaneously burst into flame if I didn’t pick her up after THIS time with the camera.

I’m giggling a lot too because, as I said before it took SEVEN TAKES to get her to lay down. Usually she does it after every time I pet her, but she didn’t want to do it for the camera. When I finally got her to do it I just laughed at how ridiculous she looks, and yes, she really does push her way across the floor after she plops most of the time. (I think she itches herself this way)

And yes, I did pick her up after we were finished and gave her attention, even if I was thinking about all the times I almost sprained my ankle trying not to step on her as she was following me around at my heels.

Cats are cute.

I think that there is only one time in a persons life where you can say “the CDC called me”, and today was that day. In case you are in the dark, you should probably read this entry here.

I look at my phone as it vibrates, “Unknown Call”, it says on the caller id.

“Hello?”

“Can I speak to Jillian Kimberlin please,” A womans voice commands, stating my full name (including my middle name)

“This is her,” I say, trying to match her professional tone.

“Hello Ms. Kimberlin, I’m Rachael from the Wisconsin CDC,” She says, her tone authoritative, “Do you know why I am calling?”

“Yes…I think so, is this about an incident at HAWS?” I ask tentatively.

“Yes, the mammal that attacked you…” She starts.

“It was a cat, and it was an accident!” I say indignantly.

“In accordance with state law, the animal was euthanized after it’s ten-day quarantine period,” Rachael continues, ignoring my statement. I think of the woman who helped me to fill out an incident form at HAWS, and how she said that someone from the Wisconsin Humane Society was going to contact me after 10 days.

“I understand,” I say, adding, “I thought that someone from the Wisconsin Humane Society was going to contact me?”

“Yes, they were, but your file was escalated to me,” She says.

“Why?” I ask, before adding blankly, “I have a file?”

“Yes, and because the cat that attacked you was deemed to have a greater than 75 percent chance of having rabies.”

“Wait…a GREATER than 75 percent chance? As in, does that cat have rabies?”

“Because of the history of the cat and where it was contained during the incubation time for rabies, it had a very likely chance of having rabies,” She says.

“Does the cat have rabies?” I blurt out, my heart about to burst from my chest.

“No, I was calling to tell you that the cat has been deemed safe, absolutely no rabid viruses were found in the several tests we performed,” She says. There is an awkward silence on the phone for a full minute. All I could think was, “I don’t have rabies.” I just had a hard time believing that I was actually talking to someone from the CDC, and how close I came to actually having rabies. I felt like singing.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” She says, bringing me back to the present.

“Yes,” I say, adding before I can stop myself, “You guys sure are serious about this whole rabies thing.”

“Yes ma’am,” She says, “There were only six reported cases in 2007, so we take it very seriously.”

“I see, well, thank you,” I say awkwardly.

“Have a good fourth of July!” She says happily, and we hang up shortly thereafter.

If finding out that you don’t have rabies doesn’t drive you to drink merrily, then I’m not sure WHAT does. Now, excuse me while I run to the liquor store.