Ya'll...I'm afraid that Earl may be a...pussy.
Yep. I know, I know... It's a shocker. I'm coming to terms with it too.
Breathe, people. Just breathe.
See, he was a stray. Born of the streets. Scruffy. Unrefined. Ugly.
But I took him in. And I love him.
Slowly he relinquished some of his wild ways, but he still insisted on going outside to eat geckos, corner baby possums, poop in flowerbeds, and nude sunbathe with abandon.
I acquiesced, much to the dismay of my pocketbook. You see, part of the curse of the Pussy cat is that he's a lover, not a fighter. And Earl got his ass kicked six or seven ways from Sunday after we moved to 78731. Apparently, "they didn't like his kind cuz he was a bit to leeeeeeisurely. It seemed (he) was busy doin' somethin' next to nothin', but diff'rent than the day before..."
Oh wait. What the fuck?!
Damn You Prince Rogers Nelson! Damn You!
Okay, so $one grand in vet bills and three years later, we moved to the (apparently) MUCH scruffier 78745 area.
At first, Earl was intrigued by the out-of-doors, even gaining a respectable "I'm a Bad Ass!" injury or two. But suddenly, he said, "No more." He was done. Apparently he received the feline equivalent of a gang jump in, and Mama's Boy didn't want any part of it anymore (Good boy!) For him, going outside was no longer something he had the least bit of interest in.
Now, a year later, he will still sit next to the screen of an open window and sniff for hours, but go outside? Um...no.
Take tonight, for example: He's sitting next to the back screen door, practically screaming to go out (if body language is to believed). So I open the door, and this is what happens:
He's all: "Did you hear that? What the fuck was that?! I mean, do you even...OH SHIT. Fuck this!! I'm going back inside."
And yes, he ran inside immediately and is sleeping all upside-down and shit on the bed right now.
But you know what? My cat is a Pussy. And I'm okay with it.*
*Hello? Does anyone else want a t-shirt with that on it?"
3 comments:
That boy ain't right.
I WANT A T-SHIRT!
My cat is a pussy too. She thinks she wants to go outside then once she is outside she runs back to the door.
...My cats are pussies too. And I'm fine with that. Except when they run outside and then hide under a giant bush where I cannot reach them and then won't come out for a fucking hour despite the repeated promises of tuna and cat treats.
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