It all started off all innocent like. Two kittens. Cute images cloud the brain like pink fluffy clouds. Cat energy, feline cunning and affection, yin and yang of co-dependance.
I should have known better. Even as the irresistible charm of the kitty cuteness on our second visit to the little furry bastards made my eyes glaze over; those two piercing cat eyes that stared deeply into mine. This is where the kitten soundtrack record should have come to a stratching, screeching halt and I should have noticed that they looked right through me, not at me. Not at all. Not one hint of what was to come in THAT which I mistook for instant like, dare I say affection? How stupid of me.
My wife fared far better in her choice, she picked a clear winner. Me? I picked the loser, the yang to her yin.
But that was not readily apparent to one so beguiled as was I. The fucking cat wasn’t even the right fur or color. Why is it that every time I have the option of choosing a cat, (and I don’t pick often but once upon a time I catered to a solid grey cat) my want is always the farthest from my initial wish … why oh why? Am I such a sucker?
And I should further have clued into what was to be when my dear wife upon deeper observations, suddenly compromised and suggested we change the choice of name for that one to Luna, instead of Lilly. Ok, that made instant sense as I’d already espied the lunacy that one embodied. Sure Luna, short for Lunatic.
I’m not certain if there is such a thing as cat racism but I don’t want to be painted with that brush. I was game to give my yang pick every opportunity to prove that I like all cats. Now I readily admit that I do not like all cats. Hell no.
The Cat Came Back comes to mind, as do all the evils (solutions to the problem) the song suggests, railing desperately about the toxic suffering extremes that a feline as evil as this plucks from the stuffings of life.
Sadly the ideal kitten scenario has been laid waste. Shredded tatters are all that remain of the innocent images we once imagined, the wickedly sharp clawed evil, a nastiness so vile has utterly destroyed a simple wish.
How was I to know it would be a piss pest?
Daily events include moping up ever expanding puddles of pee in select areas of the home, closed doors equal containment our only defense against further defilement; the occasional cat turds. Go figure, take that cute (evil can look very pretty, no?) feline and place it lovingly upon a clean, freshly prepared litter box only to have said now possessed beast look piercingly up, at and right through you, hop nimbly out of the offending box, take three steps to the side and piss a wee lake at your feet. WTF?!! Time and time again. And early mornings just outside the master bedroom follow suit, ripping me from light slumber if I hear it, the tell tale tinkle … and if I’ve not heard that I won’t fail to hear the scritching scratching of sharp nails attempting to hide the crime under a layer of what … air? Stupid cat.
And in a land where wasting paper is a sin, our paper towel and bleach consumption is bordering on a crime. Something has to go. Oops … did I write go? I meant change 😉
When I look at cat yin and then at cat yang, I resent the yang and long for the yin. Rufus is feline purrfection, while Luna(tic) is simply fucked.
Lucky for Luna the days of burlap sacks, bricks and creeks are long a thing of the past. But what to do?
The classical definition of insanity is expecting a different outcome while repeating the same actions over and over. I know that I’m not the insane one. That prize goes to Luna, while I suffer the consequences.
Her behavior has banished her to the life of an outdoorsy cat. That’s got to suck cause she looks indoorsy.