Dear Smokey Cat was a good cat in Little Cat Land. She ended up becoming an outside cat, so she did all the normal things Little Outside Cats do, like run promiscuous sexalicious lives, kill and sort of eat poor little innocent birds, that are too stupid to fly away from cats, and climb high things. Mostly, our home became "Kitty Kibbles Inn: A place to lay down your fluff"and other than sleeping, she was never home. This was fine, because she belonged in Little Cat Land. One July day, Handsome Husband announced that he hadn't seen Smokey Cat for a week. It hit me; I hadn't either, and looking at her bowl full of food, I began to worry. I was thinking a fox got her if a car didn't...and I felt incredibly guilty. But what was also going on in our lives, was that through the really crummy stress of feeling overworked and smooshed in a tiny home, a little ray of light shone on this rental home in another city; a much desired city. We'll call it, Happy Wife Land because there, Wife's friends, church community (like, down the STREET!), and favorite shopping districts and restaurants (Starbucks, suckas!!) were in abundance...not to mention great schools. We applied for the home, kind of assuming we wouldn't qualify for it because the owners were seemingly super anal (like a butt...hehehe...I'm sorry that doesn't make any sense, but I was feeling immature and it sounded funny in my head). It was just too awesome of a place to pass up trying for at the very least. So, we did. Then this truly blessed thing happened: I made friends with the brokers, and they liked us so much, one day, the secretary called and said, "I hope you guys get the house! It sounds perfect for you! I totally am not letting anyone else see it today so you guys can get it!" In case she ever reads this, or her boss does, don't be mad at her! She wasn't canceling other people's showings, she was just...keeping their paperwork down by...only letting us see it that day. Anyway, we loved it so much, we went for it. The ONLY discrepancy? No pets allowed. With no exceptions. If you personally know me, you know that I tried GIVING away that damn cat so many times, it's a wonder she never developed cat Reactive Attachment Disorder. There was no one who could take her. Which brings me back to the beginning of this story.
So, it hit me eventually, that she might have been thrown in the Kitty Slammer, at the pound. I looked it up online and...am pretty sure out of like, 25 brown tabbies, I saw Smokey Cat. I was informed it would cost approximately $200 after "medical" fees and impound fees, to pick her up (if that was infact, her). And I was like, "What the hell am I thinking? That's our CAT. I can't leave her!" Then I was like, "What the hell am I thinking? We're moving and what will we do with her?? Ohhh...You damn fur-ball; you got yourself thrown into the slammer!" I was sad. I felt guilty. I felt mean...a little mean. But then, I started to feel some peace the more I looked into the pound that had her. It was clean, it tried whole-heartedly to showcase each animal each month, to be taken into a home, and was even willing to relocate animals to other shelters to get the animals into homes. It was more than I could have found for her, and I feel in my heart of hearts, it was a gift from God because we didn't have the pain or guilt of taking her there ourselves. Truly, we couldn't afford to bail her out and weren't even sure we could afford to move at that time. So it was like, "Cat...or...rental house of our dreams where we can flourish and be joy-filled and possibly gain all the things we've been praying for?"Obviously, we took the house. I really do have peace about it all; when the time is right (when our children are grown and moved out), we'll get a pet...like a starfish or something. This is the part where I show a tribute picture of said animal but uh...well the disclaimer is, this is the only picture I could find and...it was taken because I was playing a mean trick on her...I would sneak up on her when she was napping (if THIS chick can't nap in my home, no two-bit-floosey cat-nipper was gonna either!), get as close to her face as possible, preferably with a flashlight or camera, and yell, "NAWWWWF!!"...Yes, I have issues. Things like this make me happy. At least I am honest about mine--so don't go hatin' on me when you probably do weird things like...save your toenails or lick your pretzels or something (euuuew...). Here she is..."The Cat:"
And so it was, that I was called out for not actually even owning a cat anymore, which is a discrepancy upon the title of this blog. And it's true but, I'm kind of attached to this title though I shouldn't be. I will put my thinking cap on (though it's more like a sombrero than a cap...don't know why, but if my thinking cap had a look, that's what it would be--a sombrero...my head's too big for caps) and come up with something wonderful! Or...you all could just write in some suggestions in the comment section!! *hint hint*...
To Be Continued! Duh-nuh-nuhhhhh!
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