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Sad Kitty Sunday


Kitty had a hard day Sunday.  Life is hard for a 1-year-old feline.  He learned a valuable lesson that I will probably have to reteach him every few days for a while.  He learned that I am the authority - or rather, that he is NOT.  Oh, poor kitty.  For examples of my four-legged friend's outlook on life, listen to his sad diary entries below.


Cairo (the monster cat below) is not the only one who learned a lesson today from our weekend tousle.  I got fed up with him biting me and sneak attacking me.  This cat is one of the most lovable, affectionate house cats I have ever known, and he does not bite or scratch anyone else.  He has been in a dominance war with me, however, for several months.  Truth be told, I got angry, and something inside me snapped.

This is Cairo, my kitty
I was doing all the things the books and internet articles say you are supposed to do to display dominance.  We have spend months trying different tactics and none of them have worked.  Then Sunday, after ten solid minutes of fighting, I, a 24-year-old woman who pays bills, drives a car, and is trying to start a family with her husband, hauled off and meowed/screeched like I was an angry stray in a fight to the death with the young ten-pound creature in my hands.  I don't know what possessed me, but the good thing is, neither did my cat!  He froze and looked up at me as if I had lost my mind.  Honestly, it surprised me too, but after a stunned split second, I decided to just go with it.  So I mentally shrugged, shook my proverbial head at myself, and stared my cat into submission.   

...  ...  ...  ...  ...  ...  ...  ...

All my life, I have felt like a doormat.  People have stomped on me, wiped the goo off their shoes, and left it on me while they have gone on to enjoy their now mud-free existence.  In fact, for many years, I have been under the mistaken impression that I must work to cultivate a pushover spirit in order to properly show love to others.  

I have had a lot of moments in the past year in which I have snapped and decided I was done rolling over and taking crap from people.  Most notable was when I decided the man who abused me in the past would no longer have control over my present life.  Praise Jesus He took that away!  Sunday was another of those moments.  I decided I was done being a pushover in my own home, even if it was only the pet who was bullying me.

That little incident taught me a lot about my new identity after age 23.  Together with my husband, I am the authority in my own home - not the cat, not future children, not the plethora of relatives that may visit.  A spirit of fear no longer controls my life.  I am strong and worth standing up for myself.  I am the crazy lady who meows at her cat, because hey, it works.  I may be eccentric, borderline nuts, but at least I know that about myself and can be secure enough to own it.  Best of all, I am that weird lady who laughs at herself, and therefore, will never run out of humor, no matter how difficult that next struggle may be.

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