Sorry I’ve not written much lately:  I have to use the computer on the sly, because Momo knows the Macbook has no battery and diabolically will knock the famous break-away magnetic Apple power cord out of the computer by either stepping on it or pulling it off with her mouth, killing it instantly.  Attempts to tape the cord or tie the cord in place have failed, and at the first sign of typing on the keyboard (and not playing with her), she (literally) pulls the plug on that activity.  To type at all, I have to repeatedly toss her from the desktop to the bed.  Over and over again.  My tolerance level is about six shut-downs and reboots, but that’s stretching it.  Sometimes I can type with one hand while I keep her busy with the laser pointer with the other hand, but that is not sustainable.  The only thing that works is shutting her out of the room, but that’s just heartbreaking and, um, LOUD, and thank God the doors are plastic, but the sound of her nails on them is unbearable.

Sometimes, it’s so ludicrous, I have to sit in the middle of the room far from any desk or table, just so she can’t reach me and the power cord.  Lasts about five minutes.  I’d go outside if my macbook had a battery.  I’d buy a battery, but the cost is so steep it’s just not worth it since this computer’s already living on borrowed time.

It’s taken me THREE DAYS to write this much, because she wakes up as soon as she hears the keyboard.

I also have an HP a friend left me, but Momo chewed through its power cord.  On ambitious days I bring my school’s lap-top home because it has a bigger screen and doesn’t sound like death, and I have to guard the cord so Momo doesn’t chew it to pieces too.  Only Thursday it crashed at school and is being reformatted now.  Three months of lessons and resources all gone…Amazing how computer-dependent I am, as I had no idea what to do with myself all Friday…at least I backed up a quarter of the year.

I’m pretty much hostage to this cat:   I can’t exercise, or she’ll attack me.  I can’t paint or draw or sew or knit or do anything where there is any movement, as she’ll turn whatever it is into something to kill.  Despite the herbal sedatives, which I couldn’t live without, btw, I still have bites on my wrists and ankles.

I can’t play with her because she turns into a wild creature that literally bounces off the walls and knocks everything over.  If we have any moments at all, then she makes a beeline for my ear to chew on it, purring.  It’s a totally hysterical relationship and I’m convinced the only cure is another companion.  But I can’t get her a playmate because I can’t ship two animals in the middle of winter.  Plus there’s the expense.  I hope that, should Vegas actually materialize, she’s not too old and set in her ways when I am finally able to get her a companion there, as she’s almost full-grown now.

But it’s still nice to come to someone so excited to see me, even though I often come home to the curtains ripped down from the wardrobe, and toilet paper shredded and trailing all over the house, and my clothes pulled out and scattered everywhere…and to wake up to a warm little body lying beside me, and to share the bathroom sink and play in the water while I’m brushing or constantly jump on the counter when I try to cook or…  Sometimes  when we are having a nice moment I accidentally call her June, my favorite all-time cat, and wonder why this one is such a handful.  And then I remember that June had Henry for many years.  Okay, Momo, I will find you a Henry when we get home, wherever that is.