There is something about the presence of a cat that seems to take the bite out of being alone. ~Louis J. Camuti
After failing at my first attempt at college, I was once again living with my mother. She was not particularly happy about this arrangement and was counting the days until I would get my shit together and get the hell out of her two- bedroom condo. Instead of leaving, I dug in my heels and adopted a cat. There was an ad in the paper under animals that stated in bold dramatic typeface, “Adopt or Die!” My, god, I thought, I must save this poor animal from a cruel and untimely demise. The truth was, I was lonely. Somehow I thought that adopting a cute little needy kitty would fill the void left by my first boyfriend.
I immediately drove to the house to check out the death row kitties. They were five of them, all black and spastic, clamoring for my attention on the living room floor. That is, all except one. He was cool and ambivalent about my presence. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at me. Like the men I was attracted to at the time, he was perfect. You don’t want me? Well guess what Mr. Nonchalance, I’m going to take your flea ridden ass home and make you like me.
Our first night together wasn’t the greatest. He hid under my bed and tried to swipe at my ankles every time I passed by. The only time he wanted to be near me was when I began eating my mom’s tuna casserole as a smelly enticement to come hither. Upon sniffing the aroma of my odorous dinner, he clawed his way up the white eyelet bedspread and proceeded to bat the fork out of my hand, causing tuna and noodles to fly across my room. Our love affair began.
RIP
Spooky aka "Pooty"
March 1989 - September 22, 2009