I had no intention of getting a cat.
I had every intention of buying a Christmas tree.
This is how it started:
I am home, alone, putting up ornaments in a vain
attempt to feel like there is something special about
December besides less bums on the street and less BO
on the metro.
My first tree. Smells great. Looks pretty good. I tied
it to the car myself.
But, it seems to be vibrating. Just slightly.
I reach the center of the tree and feel fur. Now I am
not a complete wimp but this is unexpected and scares
the shit out of me. So I scream.
And my new cat says "meow".
I named him Scrooge. I think it's a him. I bought him
food and a scratching post and litter and the box that
comes with it and small fake mice he ignores and I am
thinking maybe it will be nice to have a pet that
lives longer than my plants.
But he is ****ing insane.
He attacks me at every opportunity. People think I am
suicidal due to the scratches on my forearms. I own no
socks without holes. I can't sleep at night because I
know that little ****er is waiting. He sits in the
dark, quite and docile. Just when my breathing gets
shallow and even and I begin to drift off to peaceful
slumber, he attacks.
My feet seem to be his nemesis. And he is relentless.
He likes to wait under the couch when I get home. He
waits until I have taken off my shoes and streach my
weary toes before jumping out and diggin claws sharper
than Gods wit into my flesh.
Then he runs.
And he is fast.
If I am not paying enough attention he will jump to my
waist and scale my body like I was Everest until he
reaches my shoulder at which point he screams:
"Meaow!"
I love him. And I think I am going to kill him.
He has unseen enemies that plauge his existance.
I know because he will run around my apartment in a
frenzy careening off of every possible surface. His
little eyes wide. His little sphere-shaped head aware
of movements in the furnature I cannot perceive. I
imagine it is how I would act were you to shove a
red-hot coal in my ass and blame it on everything in
sight.
When he is actually still long enough for me to pet
him, it is only a matter of minutes before his little
ears go flat and he grabs my arm. He bites and uses
his rear legs to scratch my skin as if it were a lotto
ticket.
He is terrified of my basketball. I have no idea what
great injustice a simarly looking basketball has done
him in his past, but Christ, he hates that thing.
And plugs. He is not afraid of the vaccume (I have no
idea how you spell that) but he hates the plug that
goes to the wall. I can not afford the electrical tape
to satisfy his prejudice.
Sometimes he just stares at me. And I wonder how he is
planning my demise.
If I lay on the floor and look at him, he will run
full speed and colide with my head. Then he will look
at me like I am an asshole and run away. Back to the
safety of under my bed where he will wait until I am
naked and unprotected to seek his revenge.
If I try to read the paper when I am home he will
attack the page. I have no idea what is going on in
the world.
I take a shit and he sticks his little arms under the
door. He knows I shit when I get home. Its usually
quiet in there and this gives me a small heart attack
every time. He will run into the bathroom as soon as
he hears my key in the door. I have to tease him with
a treat and run to close the door before he can get in
there with me. This is what I am reduced to.
He is in love with my left work shoe and will defend
it with passion every morning. Only the left one. I
have no idea why. No other shoe precipitates such
adoration from him.
I do not understand this creature.
But I like it when he purrs. I don't know where that
sound comes from, but it's great.
He is now in a vicious, losing battle with the string
that pulls my window blinds. And there go my blinds.
Now, I am sure, he has retreated to under my bed. Only
to wait to inflict further dmage to my ravished
ankles.
My cat is Paranoid Scitzophrenic. He is Bipolar. Manic
Depressive.
Maybe he is a she. Somehow that would make so much
more sense.
I love that little ****er, but I think I am going to
have to kill him.
Or her.
