Good News and Also Bad

by Marinka on February 23, 2014

Look, you can have the greatest friends, the best support system in the world, but there will be times in your life that you will realize that you are completely and utterly alone.

I had that realization over the weekend, after Mama called me to tell me about her newly adopted cat.

“Does he even have a name yet?” I asked. She had considered Snorring, but now was toying with Alyosha, in honor of Alyosha Karamazov, the hero in The Brothers Karamazov. But then the cat killed a mouse and Mama decided that she should name him Raskolnikov after the murderer in Crime and Punishment. I assumed that it would just be a matter of time before the cat did something Mama didn’t approve of and would be named after the title character in The Idiot, since apparently this cat is destined to have a Dostoyevsky tie-in.

“Not yet,” Mama told me. “These things take time.”

“Well, my kids don’t understand what’s taking so long,” I said. It’s true that I didn’t understand either, but I attributed the questioning to the kids because they are more adorable than I am and Mama is much less likely to disinherit them and even if she does, that’s their problem.

“Tell them that we didn’t name you for months,” she instructed. “So a week is not a long time.”

Obviously Mama was immune to intergenerational naming-pressure, having other things on her mind.

“He is incredible cat,” she told me. “You should see him in the litter box.”

“I should?” I asked.

“Yes. If you ever need to dig a flowerbed or a grave, he can do it. He digs in that box for hours.”

“Maybe he has some kind of a scatological obsession,” I offered, thinking that Scat had a nice ring to it.

“No, he just likes to do good job,” Mama explained, “Also, he is affectionate. He is most affectionate cat I ever had. The other cats we had were almost like animals.”

I sat with that tidbit for a second, but just a second, because then Mama dropped a bomb.

“He may be a sex addict or a rapist,” she lowered her voice.

“Oh?” I asked, thinking desperately of ways to stop this runaway train.

“Last night he grabbed the blanket with his teeth and started humping it.”

“Is that…how sex works?” I asked. What do I know, maybe they changed things in the past few months.

“Haven’t you ever seen cats having sex?” she asked, as though cat sex had been part of the Core Curriculum.

“I haven’t,” I confessed. Cat porn is one of those things that I keep trying to get to, but there are just not enough hours in the day.

“Well,” Mama felt the thrill of having a live one on the line. “If you think that the boy cat lays the girl cat on her back and then gets on top of her in -what you call that?”

“Missionary position,” I said, teeth clenched.

“Yes, missionary. Cats don’t do it missionary position, they do it from the back, perversionary position. Is that how it is called in this country?”

“Mama, please-” my voice was weak and yet evocative of the scars I would bear.

“You know, sex from back– doggy style, right?”

“Mama, I beg you, stop talking about cats having sex doggy-style.”

“So sensitive,” Mama scoffed. “I thought you were a feminist.”

“Yes,” I mumbled, “very feminist.” Although I would have happily given up the right to vote just to have avoided this particular discussion.

Eventually Mama had to get off the phone. NoNameKa was doing something adorable or perverted and she had to tend to him.

And I was left all alone. With my thoughts that could not stop conjuring images of cat doggy-style sex.

I’m not sure those particular lambs will ever stop screaming.

One year ago ...

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{ 15 comments… read them below or add one }

Elan Morgan February 23, 2014 at 10:55 am

Ha! Oh my.


February 23, 2014 at 11:02 am

Is it the cat sex that makes you squeamish or talking to your mom about sex? I don’t want to my mom about any kind of sex.


Barbara Sigelbaum
February 23, 2014 at 11:14 am

You ladies want to deprive us of the pleasure of grossing you out. After all we’ve done for you…


awesome dude February 23, 2014 at 11:44 am

Few years ago I used to know a true graphoman/scribomaniac and an idiot whose cat was named after Count Mishkin, the main character of the Dostoevsky’s novel.
Did not help him much in his literary exploits.
This cat is one great cat and I expect a lot of good times with him.

We did not name you before the City Police paid as a visit and asked where they should look for your body as nobody registered a new born girl with the authority for 3 months.

We simply called you “devochka” and were happy with it.
It sounds ‘idiotic” but that was our life then and most likely we had other important things to do.
I vaguely remember my parents voicing some concern but what idiot will listen to what his parents are saying.


mary lou nutterfield February 23, 2014 at 11:53 am

That made me laugh till tears. Your mom is one in a million. Thanks for writing funny.


anymommy February 23, 2014 at 1:25 pm

This whole post is why I don’t like cats. And maybe why I don’t call my mother.


February 23, 2014 at 4:14 pm

Thanks for sharing all those lovely visual images with us. I needed something to take my mind away from replaying my daughter’s 2 vomiting episodes today.


Laurie February 24, 2014 at 1:08 am

Well if the cat is that amorous, she could name him Vronsky!


the mama bird diaries
February 24, 2014 at 9:33 am

I’m resisting the urge to google “cat porn.”


Jennifer Weedon (@Slummy_Mummy) February 24, 2014 at 9:46 am

You make me laugh so hard I pee a little!


Lady Jennie February 24, 2014 at 12:53 pm

Laughing. So. Hard. 🙂

I really love your parents.


anna whiston-donaldson February 25, 2014 at 9:26 pm

Oh my! So many unpleasant images are dancing in my head right now. Okay, 1.


Susan Weinstein February 27, 2014 at 9:28 pm

Oh well. I don’t like cats much. Do you know there is a cat virus that jumps to humans and it makes them schizoid ? Smithsonian had a piece on it so must be true. And they are descended from man’s chief predator, the saber-tooth tiger. Certainly not man’s best friend. She should call him predator.


Tinne from Tantrums and Tomatoes March 3, 2014 at 3:57 pm

We named our cat Atilla. It turned out very appropriate. And thank you for the visual of cat doggy – style orgies, now there is a lamb that will never shut up.


alexandra March 24, 2014 at 10:44 am

“Mama, I beg you, stop talking about cats having sex doggy-style.”

Thank you.


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