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2:30 p.m. - 2004-08-17
Call DHS. Or the ASPCA. Whatever You Do, Kill It Before It Can Breed.
Call DHS. Or the ASPCA. Whatever You Do, Kill It Before It Can Breed.

After careful observation of the felines who share my abode, I have come to the conclusion that most volcanic rocks would be better parents than I would. My cats have some serious personality disorders. Sure, at first glance, they appear to be well fed, well groomed, and friendly….but upon closer examination, it becomes apparent that they are, in fact, completely fucking nuts. Oh, I'm sorry, that's not very nice. Mentally and emotionally challenged.

First, Emily, the oldest. Fat, fluffy, and somewhat of a fraidy cat. Every time a friend comes over and pets her, she will either (a) butt her head into every possible piece of furniture in the house or (b) immediately make for the food bowl. She has an eating disorder. Also, she doesn't speak up for her needs….she just kind of looks at you and squeaks. She wants to be picked up and carried around the house, but carrying her outside sparks a complete fur-storm that can never fully be expunged from the article of clothing you're wearing at the time. If she's not done with the whole carrying thing, she will wrap her paws around your neck and cry like a kindergartener with separation anxiety on the first day of school. >

Here are Emily & Sissy, trying to ensure that I never leave them alone...>

Maggie, the middle child. Small, black, and sleek, with a few white spots. A complete loudmouth whiner. You wouldn't think that a critter that small could make that much noise….but my apartment is at the opposite end of the hall and upstairs from the front door, and I can hear her as soon as my key turns in the lock. Additionally, she is the one who will do things like steal lighters, eat plastic wrap, and fish decorative marbles out of vases and bat them around the bathtub at three in the morning. Once, my tub wouldn't drain….so I examined the hair trap. Instead of hair, it was full of marbles. She can get them out of the vase, but not the drain….guess it's cheaper than those stupid ball & scratch pad toys. She's the most outgoing, but tends to freak people (especially guys) out with her "climb on the couch behind you and stick cold nose in ear" trick. She is a possessive drama queen.

Here she is:

Sissy, the baby. Someone's purebred Siamese mated with an alley cat. I got her as an adult, unlike the other two, but she's the most possessive. She growls at people when they come to feed her if I'm out of town. She doesn't like people (other than me) to touch her. She frequently lays on her back with all feet in the air. Lazy as hell. Very territorial. Comes when you call her and drools like a dog. Simultaneously sure she's the boss and worried no one loves her. Doesn't want anything unless someone else has it first….a spot on my lap, a spot on the bed, food, etc. I'm her third owner (the other two were seriously allergic to her.) I think she's trying to make really sure she doesn't get a fourth one. She's clingier than a teenage girl with her first boyfriend.

And this is just what I've done to cats. I don't even want to think about what I would do to an actual human child. What's sad is that people's kids like me a lot.



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