Attack of the preggo kitty

Did I mention that my cat is also pregnant?

My sweet, innocent, playful kitty turns into the world's biggest ho about three or four times a year. She doesn't really do the whole midnight howling thing (thank God), but she does offer herself up to anyone and everything male - and it's not an exaggeration. The dog, our other male cats (fixed), my husband, my husband's shoes, houseguests, this giant stuffed squirrel (don't ask) we have - whatever.

I was planning on getting her fixed over the summer, but I found other useful things for my cash like buying pregnancy tests and paying for books and tuition. My vet's fees are ginormous so I was going to wait until the fall when our community's cat clinic spays/neuters for $10. I thought she would be safe inside the house until then. However, when Kitty comes in season, like a horny teenager, she finds any and every way to sneak out in the middle of the night to play with the neighborhood boys.

I didn't really notice for a while. It was like her belly swelled up over night. She starting rolling around on the floor and following me around the house. At first I thought it was just a cute, little "preggies stick together," kindred spirit thing going on. Then I realized what was actually happening.

First, she started eating incredible amounts of food. If there wasn't enough in her dish, she'd walk through the house, squalling, trying to find me so I could fill up her bowl again. She started sleeping in the most comfortable spots in our living room - the recliner, the "nook" (as I like to call it) in our couch's corner, etc. etc.

It was fine, I thought. After all, I know what it's like to be living now for another being inside - and she probably has several swimming around it there. Plus, I thought since she was growing more rotund by the day, she's probably more uncomfortable, so I let it go.

But then as days passed, as my husband and I would sit on the couch watching a movie or whatever we were doing, she would always have to be between us. Uncomfortably wedged between us, she would purr away, loudly, as she sat, mostly curled into my husband's lap. I thought maybe she liked the warmth of our two bodies close to each other until I awoke from my aforementioned five hour nap to find her nestled tightly next to my husband. I thought it was weird, but I let it go.

It wasn't too bad until one morning, I was making cereal for the Bellybean and me, and the cat channeled some sort of Bionic Woman superpowers, sprang up on the counter and started viciously munching away at my Frosted Flakes. After that, every meal I ate was not only a battle between my gag reflex and me, but among Bionic Kitty, my gag reflex, and me.

Now, before I was pregnant, I had three basic rules for social interaction: you don't mess with my man, you don't mess with my money, and you don't mess with my food. Since I've become pregnant and the need to feed has become so ridiculously strong it makes me weak in the knees (literally) at times, and everything else is also way out of order, my rules have been reduced to one: DON'T JACK WITH ME!

I poured a new bowl of cereal, and took it to my room where I thought I'd lounge in peace and it. But no. She bolted through my bedroom door, tripping me (and spilling milk all over my boobs) and jumped atop my bed and sprawled out across the bed horizontally. Oh, hell no.

If I didn't love her, didn't respect her delicate condition, and wasn't such an advocate of animal rights, I would have drop-kicked her right then and there. Instead, I put her on the floor, where, I kid you not, she went immediately into my closet and started pulling my shoes out - like she was kicking my stuff out to make space for herself.

I took her out, made a box for her with an old blanket, gave her some food and left her in the garage for the rest of the day.

Call me crazy, call me cold, but the cat was trying to take over. And if there's one pregnant princess in this house, please believe, it's going to be me.

That was two days ago and I think she's gotten over herself. She hasn't tripped me or messed with my husband or begged me for food since the trip to the garage. Now she's sun bathing in the window - probably planning her revenge.