My little pussy is pretty freaking awesome.


Alright, look, everyone knows that I have a potty mouth and I’m not afraid to use it, but Jesus H. Christ people, get your mind out of the gutter.  I’m talking about my cat.  For crying out loud!  I can’t take you guys anywhere…

:: clears throat ::

Anyway, lemme preface this by saying I am NOT a “CAT PERSON.” I do not like cats.  At all.  They poop in a litter box, which stinks, and god knows I have enough stink-makers in this house.  Then someone – and typically never the one who actually WANTED the cat – needs to clean it up.  They scratch.  They bite.  They don’t give a shit about what you think.  Their food smells as bad as their poop.  They run into the street in front of your grandma’s house and get run over (okay, maybe I’m still not over my Bengal cat Nero’s meeting with the business end of a car, but he was more like a DOG.  Ever seen a cat who likes to swim and heels on a leash?  I have.  That was Nero).

Basically, cats are little assholes in furry suits, and I’ll take 10 dogs over one cat any day.

But try telling that to your adorable little daughter who just NEEEEEEDS a kitten for Christmas.  MUST HAVE ONE.  MUST!  Well, a kitten AND those dumbass, unattainable Zhu Zhu pets (the same ones who have consequently called their home a box in the basement since approximately two days after Christmas).

So last Christmas I finally succumbed to her constant pleas and caved in.

Emma found a little tuxedo kitten named “Buster” on Petfinder.com, and she had her heart SET on him.  No two ways about it – she wanted Buster. (*note to parents – never, ever let your child peruse Petfinder.com*).

"Buster's" Petfinder picture.

“There are other kittens out there, you know.”  I said, trying to get out of the long snowy drive up to Fort Collins.

“No, I want Buster.”

“We could always check the Longmont (ahem, 15 minutes away) shelter too, Emma – I bet there are cute kitties there!”

“No, I really want BUSTER.”

“But honey, we don’t even know what his personality is like – what if he’s a crrraaaaaaazy cat??” (now coming up with anything I can possibly think of to get out of that goddamn drive to Fort Collins).

You can see where this is headed.

So up to Fort Collins we drove, an hour away, practically to Wy-freaking-oming, in the snow.  What mothers won’t do for their kids.  When I finally found the teeny tiny cat-only shelter, there were about six cages, and Buster was alone in the first one we saw.

“Now, Emma,” I warned her as we walked in, “we are not DEFINITELY coming home with Buster.  We need to see what his personality is like.  We can’t just take him home because he’s cute….”

“I know, Mommy…” she replied before I even finished, gazing into his cage lovingly and clearly not listening to a word I was saying.

“We’re here to see Buster.”  I said, with the wild enthusiasm of an inmate checking into prison for an extended stay.

“Oh, GREAT!” the cat person said, and quickly got him out of the cage.

“She did that too fast,” I thought.  “She’s too excited about this.  Clearly something is wrong with him and they want him GONE.  Look at him.  He’s cute.  If he’s so cute why is he still here?  EH?  ANSWER ME, YOU CAT PERSON!!!”

So, she hands me Buster and I’m immediately in hate with him.  He’s biting at my hands.  He’s squirmy and hard to hold.  Sure, he’s cute, but LOOK AT HIM THRASHING AROUND AND BITING AT OUR HANDS, EMMA!

Emma could not read my thoughts.

“Awwwww, mommy!  He’s sooooo cuuuuuuuute!”

“Yeah, well, I told you, we’re just checking him out – we should check out the OTHER kitties too!”

I forcibly removed Buster (or Buster’s claws) from her and quickly handed him back to the cat lady.  “Can we see the other kitties too?”

So one by one we went through the other cats… there was a nice, sleepy (older) white cat that laid like a bag of bricks in our arms.

“See?”  I said.  “Now look at how CALM this kitty is!  Isn’t this a nice, CALM kitty, Emma?”

She nodded, staring at Buster who at this point had attached himself to the front of the cage cartoon cat style and was meowing hysterically.  “But, she’s really… boring.  Too sleepy.  Buster is cuter.”

Super.

“So, you know, Buster is a cute kitty, why exactly hasn’t he been adopted yet?”  I asked the cat lady.  There were no other tuxedo kittens in the place, and I KNEW there had to be an answer as to why the little bastard was still there.

“Oh, people just like different things – someone said his marking were TOO perfect, you know, it’s just different tastes…”

“Oh sure,” I thought.  “Don’t feed me that line of crap.  This cat has ISSUES AND YOU KNOW IT.” I stared into her soul searching for the truth, but she stuck by her story.  “Buster was a ferrel cat, and he’s been in a foster home which is probably why he’s acting so crazy right now.  He’s not used to the cage.” she said.  A ferrel cat?  That’s just a fancy way of saying he was born in a barn – which he was.  Great.  Like I need more inconsiderate slobs around my house.

So after every other cat in the place was vetoed by Princess Emma in favor of Buster, I finally resigned myself to the fact that we WOULD be leaving with him.  Paperwork?  Fine.  Cardboard “crate” for $15?  Great, I’ll take one.  Just put the damn cat in it and let’s go.

Suddenly I was the not-so-proud owner of a stinky asshole kitten.

The feelings of panic set in about 5 minutes into the drive home.  He was meowing – rather, screaming – in the pseudo-crate on the passenger seat.  He began wildly GNAWING THROUGH THE HOLES of the heavy duty cardboard.  Evil little claws were emerging.  And we still had another 50 minutes till we were home.

Visions of careening off the road as a rabid kitten clawed off my face began surfacing in my mind.  I could see an entire leg now.  20 minutes later, the majority of his head appeared.  Dear sweet Jesus, we just adopted the CAT FROM HELL.  WHAT HAVE I DONE?!? In a last ditch effort to save our very lives, I took the box (whilst driving as fast as humanly possible down the freeway) and shoved it onto the floorboard.  THERE.  That’ll hold him.  No getting out now, sucka!

His entire head emerged through the hole as I finally arrived at our exit.  I stuffed my heavy duty winter coat in front of the now kitten-sized escape hatch.  Please God, don’t let us die.

By the time I pulled (or screeched, rather) into the driveway, his entire head and one leg was out of the box.  Kyle came to the car and I shrieked “HE’S GETTING OUT!  HELP!!!!”  We rushed him to my room so Hurley wouldn’t freak out (like I was) and I prayed to GOD that I didn’t just invite Damien the Satan Cat into our home.  I hated the name Buster, so somehow we came up with the name “Jinx.”  Which is appropriate when preceded by the word “Hi.”

We released the beast on our bed, and he immediately set to sleeping.

Jinx, five minutes after nearly killing us all in a firey freeway crash.

And sleeping…

Two hours in...

And sleeping…

Four hours in...

And sleeping…

Dude, are you alive?

So, it turns out Jinx sleeps a lot.  And thankfully he has proven to be more entertaining than the robotic hamsters that make unnatural animal sounds (since when do hamsters “moo,” anyway?), and other than the pooping inside part, he’s actually not too bad.  He’s even kind of grown on me over the last year.  He looooves Hurley and follows him around pretty much everywhere, much to Eeyore’s – ahem, I mean Hurley’s – dismay.

Meeting Hurley for the first time... no hissing or scratching involved.

The gentle giant Hurley, less than amused with his new companion.

Remember that Dr. Seuss book "Are You My Mother?" That's pretty much it.

And of course, for Emma it was love at first Petfinder.com sight…

So, Jinx has mommy issues.  But seriously, who doesn’t?  In the beginning, he spent every single night attempting to sleep across my neck scarf-style while kneading my skin with his tiny kitten claws and trying to suckle on me.  Now he prefers to lay directly next to my head, moving each time I do as to make sure there is ALWAYS a paw touching me.  He still wakes me up in the night by gently touching my face with his paw – usually either on my eye or cheek – and then going back to the kneading/suckling routine.  If I could train him to do it on my back, he’d make a great masseuse.

And of course, despite our deal that EMMA – the one who WANTED the cat – would clean the cat box, guess who does it?  You got it.  Me.

And, of course, Jinx now thinks he rules the house.

And Hurley is still not thrilled with the fact that he’s been dethroned by a furry little asshole….

But as it turns out, everyone gets along really well.  No one has lost an eyeball (or even been scratched or bitten), I’ve never heard him hiss, and for the most part, his favorite activity is sleeping.  And annoying Hurley.  And eating stinky cat food.  But mostly just sleeping.  Preferably as close to Hurley or myself as possible.

He likes Jack's toys almost as much as Jack does....

Assisting with toy assembly.

He enjoys ruling the house. And sleeping. Don't forget sleeping.

And strangely enough, he LOVES water.  Nero reincarnate?  Maybe so….

Monitoring bathtime activities.

Yes, he HAS gotten in.

So, all in all, I guess having a cat isn’t THAT bad.  I still am not a “cat person,” but Jinx, as far as cats go, is pretty darn okay.  And if it makes the kids happy, I guess risking life and limb and sanity to invite the little bastard into the house was all worth it.

Emma, you’re welcome.  But don’t go asking for another animal for Christmas, cause we’re chalk full of crazy already here.    And no, Jinx, you are never, EVER going outside.  Deal with it.  Now go back to sleep ya furry little jerk… :)

Zzzzzzzz......

4 responses

  1. Melinda

    That was the most fabulous piece I have ever read! I, myself, have 3 cats so you can only imagine my daily litterbox routine. BTW, I came across the link to your page on PrettyAllTrue’s facebook comments. I WILL be back to read more.

    September 16, 2010 at 8:20 pm

    • Wow, you brave, brave woman – you have my deepest respect and admiration (*I say this as the now familiar, horrid smell wafts from the laundry room, which is now dubbed Jinx’s “office”). Thanks so much for the kudos – I’m so happy you stopped by!!! :)

      September 16, 2010 at 8:25 pm

  2. shannon

    Totally fucking hilarious. Thank you….I needed a laugh, or 40. To damn funny. So when is this book of yours coming out because I want the 1st copy!

    September 16, 2010 at 8:49 pm

    • Thanks so much Shannon, and you got it baby! You can take it with you when we escape to Punta Cana! See ya, suckers – ahem – I mean family! Gosh I’ll miss them… we’ll send postcards though. It’ll be fine. Pool bar, here we come!!! >:)

      September 16, 2010 at 8:52 pm

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