Wednesday, 30 January 2013

Got Poopy Paws?


Hi! I’m Wendi Zwaduk and I’m glad to be here at the Four Strong Women blog. I love hanging out with pals and this is the place to be.

Now, you’re probably wondering about the title of this post. Sounds...gross? If you have cats, you’ll understand. No? Let me enlighten you.

I’ve got two cats. One could be a stand-in for Garfield. Really. He doesn’t do much all day but eat and sleep. In fact, if I dropped off the face of the earth except at feeding time, he’d be pleased. The other one? He’s the pill. All black and stealthy. We’re talking, you don’t know where he is unless he starts chattering, stealthy.

He’s my poopy paws cat. No, he’s not wandering around with dirty paws, but he has this tendency to wake me up every morning promptly at seven am. This isn’t really that early, but when you’ve been writing and up until past midnight, even comes awfully fast. Anyway, he is waking up committee. This entails strolling on me, putting his face in mine, meowing right in my face and swatting me with his tail. On most mornings, I don’t mind. I get up, feed him and the chubby orange one, then if at all possible, head back to snooze until seven-thirty.


Once he’s fed, he’s happy. Except on those odd mornings when he gets a wild notion to come visit me after he’s done with his second morning ritual. I haven’t mentioned what that is yet? I’m sorry to have left that part out. You see, the little bugger will eat, run laps around the house, then he must do his business. When he’s done in the litter box, he must—I stress must—run rickshaw through my house. Once that’s done, he’s happy and wanders off to do whatever it is he does when I’m not around. So now we’re to the odd mornings. Yesterday was one of those odd mornings. Instead of doing his victory laps through the house, he headed for my bedroom. I snuggle down tight into my pillow when the cat jumps onto the bed and steps on my person. I move, he doesn’t. He makes his way to my face and proceeds to tap my nose. This particular morning, I catch a whiff of where he’s been.

The litter box.

“Cat! I don’t want your poopy paws on my face!” Okay, maybe they weren’t poopy, but he’d been in the box. Close enough.

He stepped backwards and looked at me like I’d screamed in Martian, then hopped off the bed. I’m pretty sure that was his plan. Wake me up fully by pawing my face with litter toes. When I got up, his day was complete.

Has this happened to anyone else? Do you have cats that are pills? Dogs that do the same kinds of things? I’d love to know. Never hurts to commiserate. Leave your comments so we can chatter about our goofy pets. I’d love to hear what you have to say.

Now here’s a little bit about me:

Like spicy romance? So do I! Come along on this journey with me.

I’ve always dreamt of writing the stories in my head. Tall, dark, and handsome heroes are my favorites, as long as he has an independent woman keeping him in line. I love playing with words and letting the characters run wild.

NASCAR, Ohio farmland, dirt racing, animals and second chance romance all feature prominently in my books. I also write under the pen name of Megan Slayer. I’m published with Total-E-Bound, Changeling Press, Liquid Silver Books, Turquoise Morning Press, Decadent Publishing and The Wild Rose Press. Come join me for this fantastic journey!


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1 comment:

Wendi Zwaduk said...

Thanks for having me. It's always fun to talk about the slightly neurotic cat. :-)