Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Cats are my only friends
Get used to it, buddy; life is full of disappointments.
Update: He’s still out there. I admire his persistence.
Update II: I know that I’m supposed to be in class, but, really, what’s the point? The whole law thing is the very essence of futility. I suppose I would be more motivated if I knew I had the bar hanging over my head, but I don’t, and since there’s not many more people I can disappoint at this time, I decided to stay here and keep an eye on the cat.
Update III: Still there.
Update IV: I went to go put on an shirt, and when I got back downstairs he was gone. I rushed to the window, and noticed that he is curled under the window in a small cardboard box containing by bar application that I left out for the trash.
Update V: It appears that it has gotten up and is now laying in the sunshine out in the grass. I may take a nap.
Update VI: Will Baude and I have been emailing each other on the issue of the general superiority of cats. I have nothing against dogs, but it is obvious that cats are the morally superior species. In simplistic terms, cats are the embodiment of self-sufficiency and the free market. They don’t ask for anyone’s help, but are willing to do it on their own. You don’t have to take a cat outside, because the cat knows how to use a litter box. Cats keep themselves clean. If needs be, and if humans have not removed their claws, cats can hunt and fend for themselves.
Dogs, on the other hand, are anything but self-sufficient. Much like hippies, they cannot survive outside the commune. They cannot hunt well enough to feed themselves; they cannot clean themselves; and they cannot manage the simple task of crapping outside without someone to hold their hands. Sure, dogs show loyalty, but it is a loyalty born from need. Have you ever seen a stray dog? Doesn’t it look like a homeless vagrant? The fact is, dogs are Democrats and cats are Republicans.
Update VII: It’s been over five hours now and the cat is still in my back yard. It still has a long way to go to beat my record. Years ago, I was dating this girl and she broke it off. We had only been dating for a few weeks, but somehow I knew it wouldn’t work out. That didn’t stop me from sitting outside her house from dusk ‘til dawn for 3 nights in a row after she dumped me. I stopped when I realized how pointless relationships are. I’m not sure what I expected, anyway, but I wanted her to know that I was committed to her, and even though I don’t think she ever saw me, huddled behind that small spruce in the fence corner, I like to think she knew how much I cared. I just wish she hadn’t broke up with me in January, because I caught a nasty cold that hung on for over a month.
She had a cat that looked a lot like this one.
Update VIII: I saw Catwoman 6 times at the theater. Is that wrong?
Update IX: When I woke up from nap #2, the cat was still out there, although it had moved back onto the porch. Clearly it isn’t going anywhere, so I decided that I ought to feed the little runt something. I’m completely out of cat food, so I was hoping to find a can of tuna fish or some lunchmeat lying around, but no such luck. I considered thawing out some chili I had stored in the freezer, but I was saving that for a special occasion and it does have quite a kick to it thanks to the habanernos I added to it before freezing. The only other thing in the fridge was a couple of sour cream and chicken enchiladas left over from my dinner a few nights ago, so I went with that. When I opened the backdoor the cat predictably ran off behind the bushes. I put the plate down anyway, just in case it comes back. Rejection clings to me like a bad cologne.
I think I’ll thaw some of that chili while sipping bourbon. Or maybe I should get out of this bathrobe before the sun sets.
Update X: I looked outside and noticed that the plate was clean, but I didn’t see the cat. I went out to pick up the plate and noticed the cat spread out behind one of the small bushes next to the porch. I was rather surprised, considering how jumpy the thing seemed earlier. Not wanting to scare it I softly called out, “Here kitty-kitty.” No movement. I did it again. Nothing. I shuffled forward a little. Still nothing. That’s when I noticed the vomit. It was all over the corner of the porch. Sensing something was wrong, I moved in. Not only was the cat not moving, but it was stiff as 3 fingers of Glenfiddich. Oh, shit. Now that I think about it, those enchiladas were more like 2 weeks old. Damn it. Why does this always happen to me??? Now I’m going to have to bury it.I guess I’ll put it outside of town where I buried that hooker back in November.