Would you believe me if I told you that this was a randomly generated resolution?
Have you heard about cat cafés? They are all the rage in Asia and Europe and they have made it to the states. It’s where you can get a coffee and pet a bunch of friggin’ cats.
A friend of mine tagged herself at The Denver Cat Company and I was all, “Kids! Get in the car! NOW!”
Yes, I have died and gone to heaven.
They offer drip coffee, hot cocoa, and an assortment of pre-prepared goodies. And there are cats everywhere.
I took an immediate (perhaps a little too eager) shine to Sana Hamelin, the owner.
I don’t know, I just felt like she was the kind of person that I would get along with.
I asked Sana whether the cats were available for adoption and perhaps because I sensed our sympatico, I answered truthfully when she wanted to know what I was looking for.
“An obese slut.”
“I have just the cat for you!”
I’ll admit that he was a little standoffish, but there were a bazillion cats running around so I can’t blame him.
Sana gave him the thumbs up and he’s super fat which turns into …
I posted his pictures on FB and my friend Jen was all over me like white on rice.
Cat cafés are the wave of the future, people.
Long story short, I got him. I filled out the paperwork, got That Fucking Cat’s carrier and came back. I figured I’d freestyle the introduction to Loony.
It went fine the last time I sprung a cat on him.
I call him Timpano, Timpy for short.
The cat and the Italian dish have a lot in common. They both weigh around 20 pounds, are rotund, are stuffed full of good things, and can satisfy a crowd (read about that later).
I was a little worried about Loony’s reaction. He knows that I’ve been on a mission to get another cat and he was all, “You are an adult and I can’t stop you,” as if he was talking to his teenage daughter heading to a frat party in a miniskirt.
It went really well.
Tabby dropped Chicky off for the weekend and they have agreed to share the couch.
I never miss an opportunity to antagonize Tabby. It’s our language of love.
It’s general good times and happiness around here. I have finally found true feline satisfaction.
That Fucking Cat isn’t too pleased but I have to admire her chutzpah, staring down the big guy like she did.
I still love the little fucker, even though she hasn’t been pulling her weight around here as far as snuggling goes.
I figure she’ll come to appreciate him the way an aging wife appreciates a young mistress. She’s a little bit pissed off about it but ultimately relieved that he’ll ease her work load.
Timpy doesn’t look like he wants to fight her and he’s not attacking Blue so I think we’ll be fine.
But the most important thing … is he a slut?
Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!
I have never in my life met such a slutty cat. He is everything I have ever wanted in a cat and more. His broad expanse of belly is forever available for me to motorboat.
He will make out in bed for hours. He only wants me to pet him harder, faster. He doesn’t claw my face when I stick it in his tummy. He lets me comb his fur.
And just last night Heather came over to see him and we jumped into the guest bed with Timpy between us and pet the shit out of him for an hour while lamenting our horrific holiday weight gain.
That’s right, I’ve already had a 3-way with him.
At last, my life is complete.
That’s the big news. I got another cat. And I didn’t have to lie, steal, abduct, go to a breeder, spend a lot of money, call a divorce lawyer, or cross states lines.
I’m feeling pretty good.
Now I need to talk Sana into opening a Boulder Cat Company so I can hang out with her and the cats way more often.