I have a confession to make. I had every intention of getting That Fucking Cat pregnant.
I was only going to do it once and then get her fixed, I swear! I was also going to line up homes in advance for all the kittens after I had the pick of the litter.
But it’s still wrong. I know.
Yet I have such fond childhood memories of my cat giving birth in my bed while I slept, of my mother pulling back the covers to reveal two tiny kittens that had been born minutes ago at my feet. It was magical.
And it doesn’t make it right that I wanted to experience that again.
But I was still going to do it.
I conjured up the perfect web of lies to (hopefully) spare myself from being drawn and quartered by my more socially responsible readers. It was diabolical!
When it comes to being sneaky, I am the hands-down master.
Seriously, when I read about some dip-shit politician getting busted for cheating or whatever, I always wonder how it’s possible that such a person could make it so far.
I mean really, doesn’t anybody know how to sneak around anymore?
Here’s a refresher:
- Don’t use email or any traceable form of communication
- Don’t send naked pictures of yourself
- Don’t write about it in your diary and then leave your diary by your bed
- Don’t tell anyone, you idiot
I come by this wisdom having made all these mistakes and gotten royally busted. I had it coming.
If you ask me, don’t betray someone you love or even just like. Don’t do it. Everyone (including you) will suffer terribly.
My peace of mind and integrity means the world to me. Nothing feels as good as being out of my integrity feels bad.
But I digress.
Before you hit the “unfollow” button, I want to assure you that I’m not going through with it. In fact, That Fucking Cat has an appointment to get spayed tomorrow at 7am and the Humane Society’s clinic.
She’s been suggestively flouncing around in front Blue and we might get some bizarre cross-species freakiness going on which I’m not sure I can explain to my kids.
She also wants out of the house, badly. She’s making a break for the door every time I go near it.
The lady at the clinic wanted to know her name.
“Her name is That Fu … um … Kitter … eh … Kitsy! Heh, heh.”
What changed my mind?
- That Fucking Cat isn’t very special, she’s just a stupid cat that doesn’t possess the genetics to warrant breeding even though I was told she was half Maine Coon. Half Maine Coon my ass.
- No one with a cat of any pedigree would breed her stud with my stupid mongrel
- It’s wrong to breed cats when so many still need homes
- Loony would be really mad at me
- My friends would be mad at me
- My readers would be mad at me
- TFC is very small and she might die during labor
- What I really want is an orange tabby and getting TFC knocked up would be a crap shoot
- TFC is totally annoying and would probably have equally annoying kittens, she’d probably get knocked up by the ugliest cat ever just to annoy me
You mean aside from all those reason? Here’s why I changed my mind.
Kayla is one of the most lovely people I’ve met. I’m slowly getting to know her but her Facebook feed, unlike most everyone else’s, makes me happy and like her more. FB feeds rarely have that effect on me.
It’s full of pictures of her current fostered kitties.
She’s been fostering cats that are slated to be euthanized and she’s been doing it for ALMOST SIX YEARS!
I can only imagine the restraint it takes for her to not keep a couple cats and get out of the fostering business. She abstains from having her own cats so she may help others.
She visits shelters and pet stores and takes pictures of adult cats so they can find homes. It’s a beautiful labor of love.
How can I respond to that selfless commitment by being part of the problem?
I told her that I’m looking for a super slutty male orange tabby. She didn’t miss a beat.
“I’ll find you one!” she said and started tagging me in photos of potential candidates.
By super slutty, I mean lusty. I am not slut-shaming cats!
I want a cat that wants to make out all day, sleep on my face and offer up the belly for motor boating.
We talked about her foster work and she confessed that she can’t be friends with people who don’t neuter and spay, who by their actions take homes away from her foster kitties.
It’s a good thing she didn’t know about my plans.
She made a good point, one that I have always believed in but lost sight of. I’ve gotten numerous cats from the shelter in the past (and don’t forget how I got my stupid dog), but I needed her to remind me.
I mean, I can’t have Kayla hate me, can I?
I figure my kids can experience the wonders of kitten birth by watching videos on Youtube, or maybe when they are older we will foster cats ourselves, perhaps some kittens or even a pregnant female.
Tabby refused to help me by promising to take a kitten. At first she agreed to collude with me but then told me she couldn’t live with herself.
Moneypenny broke down and got one from shelter, Dirdy Birdy might hate me, and even Lemony would probably have to bite her tongue to keep from telling me off, so I really have no choice but to do the right thing.
I’m still getting the man-ho tabby cat of my dreams, even if it means enduring Loony’s disapproving face, but I’m used to that.