Stuff On My Cat, My Cat On Stuff

Stuff On My Cat

Updated 7/20/2007: Thank you so much to Mario at Stuff On My Cat for posting our video and linking to our blog! Thank you to everyone who commented and enjoyed Maggie’s ‘stackage’. You’re all amazing.

Although we at TeamJaded are dedicated to interesting news, people, and the occasional politics, we do enjoy our fare share of fun websites. I for one, am a huge fan of Stuff on My Cat. Everyday it makes me smile. So when we purchased a new camera (Canon XH-A1), I decided to shoot my cat while figuring out the settings. What happened was something I never expected. A video where I put stuff… on my cat. Yes, you read that right. It’s slightly amusing, as Maggie (my cat), acts as if nothing is happening.

A while back I wrote about Maggie. I thought I’d share it with you now that you know how deceivingly cute she can be.

This was written August 12, 2006, 9 days after I moved from NYC to SF.

I have a foster cat. Her name is Maggie.

Last week Maggie went on the most exciting adventure up to this point in her 2-year-old life. However, I presume the trip from east coast to west coast may have been more exciting for the passengers on Jet Blue Flight 97.

Upon boarding the plane, it was realized that the cage she was traveling in was approximately ‘yay’ centimeter too big to fit under the seat in front of me. Maggie, cage, and I proceeded to the rear of the plane hoping for a smooth transfer into the airline-supplied cage.

All goes smoothly, and Maggie pops her little head out of the top of the gated cage. Then she pops her front paws out. Then she wiggles a bit. I’m trying desperately to push her resisting body back into the cage, only to realize her harness (yes, she’s wearing a harness) is caught on the wires. She looks frantic. She’s wriggling with all her might. The passengers are now crowding around the scene like lookie-loos in an accident. Maggie is caught halfway in and halfway out of the plastic-bottom, wire-top box. Finally the man in front of me picks her and the cage up, takes her to the back and finesses her out. We lock the hole with a twisty tie. Maggie, all tuckered out from her exhausting and embarrassing endeavor, sleeps the entire 6-hour flight.

Please allow me to delve in all that is Maggie the Cat.

When I decided to house this cat for “a six week trial period”, I must admit, I wasn’t what one would call “smart” about this decision. In fact, I fully take responsibility for my somewhat ill-advised act of altruistic feline charity.

My hopes of having a companion of independent temperament, who required little to no attention was to be found in a small little ball of fur with unclipped claws.

Cute? She was. Friendly? She was not.

Twiggy was her shelter moniker. Sadly, the stick-like underfed cat that she was fit the ridiculous name. A fierce growl, squinted eyes, and turned down ears was how she welcomed my hand as I tried to pet her calico fur. No such luck. She retreated to the corner of her newspaper-lined cell, foot stepping into her water bowl.

“I’ll take her,” I say. It was as though all my intelligent senses had taken a coffee break; and while my brain cells were dipping biscotti in espresso, I accepted this miniature life into my studio apartment. For better or for worse, in sickness & in health, ’till “six weeks later” do we part.

Eight months and 2582 miles later, Maggie Francois Scratcher, is still my foster cat. No official adoption has been made, as the shelter never called to check on their precious little demon.

Maggie has successfully wrecked a linen closet, demolished 2 large cardboard boxes, ruined the armrests of a corporate housing suede couch, and, among other things, peed on a suitcase.

She runs laps around the apartment at 5 in the morning. She will attack ankles if not fed at a proper time. She growls with a haunting, low snarl in the middle of the night, hair on end, eyes fixated on emptiness. She tries to escape every time the front door is opened… or the window on a 26-floor apartment.

Now, these things aside, Maggie has learned to be quite the friendly cat. She enjoys a nice bout of catnip therapy, a good tummy rub and a playful jaunt with a menacing ball of trash.

For those who are wondering why her name was changed, please refer to the following songs.

There’s actually a song called ‘Maggie the Cat’ by The Bangs. I have yet to hear it.

Rod Stewart: Maggie May
Oh Maggie I wish I’d never seen your face
You made a first-class fool out of me
But I’m as blind as a fool can be
You stole my heart but I love you anyway
Maggie I wish I’d never seen your face
I’ll get on back home one of these days

Beatles: Maggie Mae
Oh dirty Maggie Mae they have taken her away
And she never walk down Lime Street any more
Oh the judge he guilty found her
For robbing a homeward bounder
That dirty no good robbin’ Maggie Mae