To honor national ‘answer your cat’s questions’ day, we took it upon ourselves to answer, in our opinion, cat’s most common questions. Our cats, Rooster and Cow, are very vocal felines. Both of us have looked at our cats and KNOWN these questions are circling around their pea brains. We hope these answers are useful in accommodating your cat’s needs.  

ROOSTER: Where the hell do you go all day? 

It’s like our cats think we WANT to be gone all day. Obviously, we are not able to tell our fur babies that we will be back in a couple of hours, for all we know, they think we abandon them for 8-10 hours a day. How do we say, “I would much rather stay and cuddle you all day long and not attend my lectures,” to a cat that doesn’t even know what a lecture is. Regardless, I don’t think they get much of a say when they live rent free in MY house. Check yo self before you wreck yo self, Rooster.

COW: Where’s my catnip?

I recently learned, from unreliable and unnamed sources, that catnip doesn’t affect cats until they’re over 6 months old. I’ve decided to use this delightful nugget of information to my advantage. Cow doesn’t exactly have internet access, so I’m currently running ‘Operation Catnip Is For Grownups.’ No, you can’t have any catnip, you’re underage. 

ROOSTER: Why does mom clip my claws? 

Rooster can’t even ask this question because when I go to clip his claws, I literally have to do ONE nail per attempt. I get genuinely scared my neighbors are going to call animal control with the amount and the volume Rooster screams at me. It’s not just a meow, it is a bloody murder, ‘mom I’m going to kill you,’ scream. To answer ‘why’ I have to do this, it’s because Rooster likes to play chutes and ladders on my face while I am trying to sleep. 

COW: Why can’t I pee with you? 

A nonstop issue we face with our kittens is a lack of boundaries. Cow has a fixation on the toilet, whether I’m on it or not. Sitting on the toilet comes with the constant companionship of Cow in my lap. Miss Cow has now successfully evaded my attempts to keep her out of the toilet as I stand up to flush TWICE. Long story short (while revealing as little disgusting information as possible) it always ends in an unceremonious and traumatizing bath time experience. 

At this point, I don’t have a good answer for this one. My best advice is to distract with a noisy toy and lock the door as quickly as humanly possible.

ROOSTER: What happened to my balls???????????????

How do you explain to your cat that you took their manhood?  My approach, you don’t. I chose to gaslight my cat and he now thinks (if I was successful) that the vet went awol and I had no prior knowledge. If you are trying to take a less manipulative approach, say you were protecting them from the crazy strays that would baby trap him. 

COW: Why do you go behind that horrible, cursed curtain in the bathroom and why can’t I come? 

Cow is convinced that the shower is an evil spirit that sprays poison at me once a day. Every single time she’s been allowed in the bathroom while I’ve been in the shower, she has gotten on the ledge and inevitably fallen in. That may sound relatively harmless, but it is most certainly not. I have the scratches to prove it, including in places I would rather not admit to.

I go behind the curtain to take my bath and you can’t come because I like to end my shower clean and with all of my blood still inside of my body.

ROOSTER: Why don’t you leave my glass toys on the counter anymore? 

I CAN’T AFFORD TO BUY MORE GLASSES. The better question is how did I start the year with an entire set of wine and regular glasses and now I have TWO regular glasses and NO wine glasses. Did you know they made silicone shot glasses? I didn’t, but now they’re the only things I own! To put it shortly, we don’t put the glass toys on the counter anymore because we no longer have glass toys to put out. 

COW: Why can’t I share your dinner? 

While I can’t speak for Rooster, I can say that Cow throws the fit of the century every time a shred of cheese leaves the fridge. I’m talking about throwing herself at walls, jumping off counters, and trying to bust through doors. Every time I indulge her, I’m met with the smelliest poops I’ve ever smelt. Girl … you’re lactose intolerant.