my biggest rival: the bitch i can't escape

I watch Oprah whenever possible because she makes me feel like my life is somewhat on track, but don’t interject your opinions on that one. This particular episode is a throwback & is called ‘are you normal?’ one of those Dr. Oz specials where they ask the audience to answer questions & base normality on the popular audience response. This show makes me seem like plain Jane. We have grown men that sleep with stuffed animals, women that have to clean their entire houses naked, a man that has a mandatory ‘perfect wife list’ to turn her into a stepford wife (more on that bullshit later), a woman with 92 personalities (making me paranoid that I might have several personalities) & a woman that treats her animals like humans, which I suppose isn’t as far-fetched. This woman calls her house so that she can leave her dog a voicemail to tell him when she’ll be late. This is my mom.

It’s time everyone met Kiki. She is a blue point Siamese cat that was bred & hand-picked by my mom for an amount of money that I’m sure was presented in a briefcase. When first brought to the western world from Thailand, these cats were considered the ‘Royal Cat of Siam’, because they were kept only by royalty, & I’m certain that Kiki is aware of this. We’ve had other cats & plenty of dogs growing up & my parents still have 3 cats & a dog, but nobody (yes, she’s a person) is like Kiki. When my mom is away from the house for whatever reason, she makes my dad hold the phone up to Kiki’s ear so she can talk to her. I think she was an addition to our family because my sister & I were growing up & my mom needed a baby. Siamese cats have a distinguished meow that mimics a baby crying & they normally cling to one person & boyyy isn’t that all true. My mom refers to Kiki as our sister. Every time I’m home, it’s always, ‘come on, say hello to your sister…you haven’t seen her in a while.’ I search around for a person & I’m greeted by this furry little bitch cry-meowing at my feet.

She only eats chicken gerber baby food, that my mom and dad hand feed her only!...only!! after being warmed up in the microwave. (and you have to check it on your own skin before feeding it to her) She has a mini picnic table that her food & water bowl are kept on so that she doesn’t have to strain her neck to the floor to eat. If it’s been raining outside, she still has to be nosy & walk out there to check stuff out but freezes in the wet grass & will act paralyzed until my mom walks over & saves her. When Kiki goes on roadtrips, she’s allowed to sit wherever she wants, so if she’s sitting on my head, or strangling me with my own seatbelt, or making herself a personal cat scarf, then she has to stay there because that’s where she wants to be. I’ve had to learn growing up that Kiki is always right & everybody else is wrong. 

Our family came back from a month long Mexico vacation a week early because Kiki was missing. We got flights rearranged because a ‘family member was in an accident’, & with my mom’s Oscar winning performance & the way she talked about Kiki wandering away…airline officials actually thought our grandmother with extreme Alzheimer’s had run away from home and we had to go find her. Nope. Just my mom’s cat decided to hang out in the backwoods behind our house. She was home when we got there, just chillin’ on the porch with a snarky grin on her little face. I’m convinced it was her plan all along because she knew my mom would come rushing back to her precious Kiki. Another time we brought her to a beachside vacation, & because she couldn’t handle the noise of the traffic outside & didn’t like the salty air, my dad had to drive her back an hour & a half to our house at 3am!! because she was in distress. When we go on other vacations, Kiki gets a babysitter. Not someone who checks on her once a day, or just drops by & fills up a food bowl, my parents pay someone to stay at our house while we’re gone to watch Kiki. What?!

If we’re eating dinner, Kiki insists on inspecting our plates. Here I am eating my roast beef & stewed vegetables & Kiki comes creeping up to me & stares me straight in the eyes. I push her away because Kiki & I have never gotten along & I get yelled at to be nicer to my sister. Kiki doesn’t get pushed off of the table because pets don’t belong there…she’s Kiki, so she can sit wherever she wants. My mom says, ‘just let her smell it, she just wants to see what it is, she’s not going to do anything.’ So I let Kiki smell it & within seconds she has taken the biggest chomp out of my roast beef. Like she fully sunk her teeth into it & paused just so that I could see that she won that victory. My mom also thought it was ridiculous that I wanted a new plate, I mean after all she only took a ‘small bite’. Small bite my ass, she took a beast chunk out of it. But I’m not allowed to say anything. Kiki is the queen of the house. To top allllll of this off, my strongest of a million different allergies just so happens to be to cats. And there is no getting rid of Kiki, so I just have to be armored with several medications, nasal spray, eye drops, an inhaler, & a HEPA air filter stationed in my room every time I’m home. Anything to accommodate Kiki. I have a love/hate relationship with a cat. & my mom still loves her more. Only me. Only my life.

The princess herself

-BR