How is it already AUGUST. I ask this as a genuine question because I feel as if I’ve done nothing and am still waiting for summer to get started. I need at least another six months and I DEFINITELY need the “back to school” displays at stores to GTFO. That’s disrespectful to this country’s brave educators to rush their summer like that. Shameful
Anyway, last week I decided to take the kids on an adventure our local animal shelter/farm. I figured we could tour the adoptable cats, dogs, birds and farm animals for something to do on a day when I had nothing on the agenda.
In terms of animal favorability, I much prefer cats to dogs. Cats are innate assholes. They don’t give a shit whether you like them or not. In fact, they already hate you before they even meet you. My cat wouldn’t save me if I was burning alive. She’d probably just sit there with a firehose and be like “that’s so sad, bitch. Buh-bye” I respect a cat’s disdain and obvious disinterest in so many things. They like napping and occasionally clawing people’s faces– these are things that I wish I could do more of.
So of course, we hit up the cat and kitten area. Caroline and Oliver swooned over every adoptable feline in the joint. They even had a room full of cat towers and couches where cats just chilled and you could go in and hang out with them. We met one cat, Kaya, who was all sensual and rubbing up on all of us. Come to find out, homegirl had just given birth to 500 cats (it was actually 4, but whatever). We discovered this when one of the pet counselors told us AND the fact that her nipples were staring us in the face. It’s always fun to explain cat breastfeeding to toddlers in public.
After leaving the cat apartment area, we roamed the aisles of caged cats. I stumbled upon a cat who was hiding under blankets with his description reading “very sweet, just likes to hide under his blankets.” I peeped his little paw and gave it a rub.
That mofo popped his head out so fast and immediately started rubbing his face on the cage. Homeboy was working it and pathetically enough, it worked on me. I signed up to have some alone time with him which didn’t help my cat fever.
While I was petting him, Caroline decided to start talking with the pet counselor who was supervising the visit.
Caroline: One time, our cat Maggie got out and she was gone for days.
Counselor: Oh no, that’s so sad.
Caroline: Yeah, mom cried in the bathroom.
Caroline: We got a kitten once too.
Counselor: You did??
Caroline: Yeah, but we gave it away. I was only a little sad.
It was like meeting a hot guy in a bar and up stumbles your drunk best friend who has verbal diarrhea and is like “Oh, did she tell you she’s been divorced twice and has genital herpes? She cries a lot too.”
Like what the hell, Caroline! Here I am trying to rescue a cat and make our family bigger and she’s spilling the beans on that time our cat was gone for 8 days and I had a near mental breakdown. Why don’t you also tell the pet adoption person about how our diabetic dog once ate a bowl full of Christmas Hershey’s Kisses and then puked red and green foil in several neighbor’s driveways. I mean, really.
We left cat-less, BUT because I have problems…I don’t know if this is the end of the road for this cat and I. So if you come to my house and see another cat, just don’t ask any questions. If Angelina Jolie can request privacy regarding her divorce then I can request privacy concerning my potential new cat.