Slade already had a woman in his life when he and I first started dating. This was actually one of the first things I learned about him. He told me her name, told me all about her personality, and even texted me a picture of her. Then, not too long after, I met her in person.
Everyone, meet Rizzo, AKA: The Rizz. She's a whole lot of sass in a tiny little package. Her hobbies include racing people up and down the stairs (and tripping them on good days), loafing, flirting with her stray boyfriend through the sliding glass door, and spying on the neighbors. She's a pretty fun gal.
She's also the reason that I have to dope myself up on Zyrtec at approximately 6:30 every evening. I'm pretty sure she sees my allergies as a sign of weakness. I'm also pretty sure she is plotting my demise...although I did once read an article that said cats bite and glare at you out of love.
Rizzo has had a particularly crazy week. I warned her that she was going to end up on the blog if she kept it up, but I think that's what she was secretly hoping for. Cats, am I right?
Slade and I put up the Christmas tree on Saturday. Ah, so festive...
Now, I'm not naive enough to think that she wasn't going to mess with the tree. She's a cat. Cats are curious. I knew it was inevitable. That's why I wasn't at all surprised to come home to this after we took a five minute trip to Walgreens. (Note the trail of flattened branches.)
Therefore, I also wasn't super surprised any of the other times we found the tree in a disheveled state. I was a little disturbed by the crazed look in her eye when I actually witnessed her take a flying leap and latch onto the top of the tree, but still...cats, am I right? Yesterday we barricaded her in the spare room while we were at work, but then decided that her freedom is more important than trying to avoid a few ornaments on the floor. Look at it this way...most people only decorate the tree once a year, but cat people get to do it EVERY DAY.
Moving on...this morning I realized that we forgot to thaw chicken for dinner tonight. Now, one does not just leave things on the counter to thaw when they have a cat, so I devised what I thought was a genius plan. I put the chicken in the sink, then took one of our super heavy plates, that no normal cat should be able to move, and placed in on top of the chicken. I texted Slade so he could check on it when he got home, and went off to work.
Around 4:00, I got this text:
At this point, I really did think he was kidding.
How she managed to get that chicken, I'll never know. But at least the Christmas tree stayed in one piece. Oh, and more good news. She loves the Christmas blankets, and as of now has no plans to harm them.