CATS ARE EVIL 

Cats are evil. 

I know this because I have two of them. The calico one and
the black one. 

I’d tell you their names, but they don’t have any. They are the
calico one and the black one. There used to be an orange
one, before there was a black one, but one morning as I left
for work he hit the open door at a sprint and never wrote
home. 

They’re that way. 

You cut their testicles off and they take it personal. 

So the orange one was gone, and then the calico one was
lonely, and while I was away on business, my children snagged
the black one somewhere and put it in my house. They think it
was a stray. 

I think it is food storage. 

If I lose my job, I’m eating it. And the other one. 

But until then I’ll spend good money to feed them and let them
crap in a box in my home. Breathe deep, that’s the smell of a
cat house. 

And I don’t mean the kind in Nevada. I mean the kind with hair
all over. The kind that revolve around a couple of animals too
stupid to chase mice. 

The orange one I got at the humane shelter. Used to be you
looked for a sign that said “FREE CATS,” now you go to the
multi-million dollar shelter and pay $65 for a cat. Or most of a
cat. They won’t sell you the whole thing. 

They’ll sell you the cat, but not the cat’s testicles, they have
to stay there. Ditto for the fallopian tubes. 

And they call it “adopting.” 

Which is nuts, because adopting is when you get some little
kid from China. You don’t adopt animals, you adopt children.
Animals you buy. 

That’s because they are property. 

The only rights they have is to be launched across the room
when they sit on your head in the middle of the night. The
orange one used to do that. I’d be just about asleep and he’d
come over and sit on my head. 

And I’d launch him. 

And he’d go splattering across the floor stopping to lick himself
and walk off in that bored kind of way cats are famous for. 

Then when I fell back asleep he’d come sit on my head again. 

This went on several times a night for a week or two until we
had a meeting of the minds. 

And after that I saw things his way and got used to him
plopping across my face as I slipped into REM. And after he
ran away I kind of missed having him crawl around on my head
like that. 

Part of the problem is that cats are proud animals. 

They are especially proud of their butts. Peculiarly proud, if
you ask me. 

You can’t lay your head down on a pillow, or sit on a sofa
without a cat will hop up and start showing off its butt. And
the way they hold those tails, straight up in the air like that,
you can get a pretty clear view. And this seems to satisfy the
cat nicely. 

But it brings me no end of annoyance. 

I want to call the pet shelter people and tell them to come fix
the cat again. Spay it one more time, see if you can’t take its
mind off that stuff. 

Anyway, cats are evil. 

And I know what I’m talking about. I’ve got a couple of them
coming my way right now. 


- by Bob Lonsberry © 2001