The family has acquired a new pet...sort of. I went out to our deck this morning and what do I see but another stray cat getting ready to make himself at home on my property. This occurs quite frequently since my neighbors don't have the good sense to keep their house cats inside OR the neighborhood is being overrun by the zombie cat invasion.
It was kinda cute, with a light tan fur and a black and grey striped tail. You could tell it hadn't eaten in awhile because it was very skinny. By it's small size, I'm guessing it wasn't full grown. After about six attempts by this cat to mount my deck and call it home, and six attempts to "gently" push it off my deck, it finally found a way to the other side and happily laid down under my grill.
I told the cat in no uncertain terms that it was not becoming a part of the family and it should vacate the premises. However, for any of you that are "cat lovers", you know Nature's Rule #46...you can't tell a cat ANYTHING. Cats don't care what you have to say, nor would they listen to you even if they could understand your command.
See, that's why dogs are superior animals to cats. Don't judge me harshly before you know the whole story, you friends of felines. I HAD TWO cats that made their home with me not so long ago. One was completely nuts so I had it committed and they other tried to bite my daughter. Bye Bye Kitty! I was actually kind of fond of that one. We named it Tasha and I was quite sad for about five minutes when animal control came to take it away. However, in hindsight, Tasha ended up costing me several hundred dollars in damage to my carpet and furniture, so I wasn't THAT sad.
Back to the story of the squatter cat. While I was having a conversation with this animal, my children happened to peer out the door. Of course their first reaction was "CAN WE KEEP IT?" Uh........no. Second question to leave their lips was "WHAT SHALL WE NAME IT?" Uh.....Nothing, it's not staying. They begin to rattle off a whole list of names, while I closed the door and went back to my room. Sitting on the bed, I then had a brilliant idea! You want to name the cat? Okay! I have the perfect name!
What is it?, they all hollered in unison, figuring it was okee dokee that it was about to acquire the last name of Carleton. Into their sweet little faces, I looked at them and said, "STIR FRY!" And if you don't like that one, how about "KUNG PAO"?
The shrieks were deafening. I reminded them again how much I disliked cats and told them to stay away from it, cause stray cats have diseases. They grow giant fleas which can jump 75 feet, onto them, and into my house. We agreed that I would call Animal Control, who would of course, nurse it to perfect health and give it to some loving family that would care for it for the rest of it's nine lives.
I guess I'm an old softie. I haven't called Animal Control. It is still sitting on my deck, mewing at me, looking at me with those Puss-in-Boots eyes. And I'm beginning to wonder....How hot does my wok have to be?
Disclaimer: No animals were hurt in the writing of this blog. Just because I don't like them, doesn't mean I would ever harm them. So forget about animal cruelty claims, you cat lovers.
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