Monday, August 30, 2010

Eugene the Cat

I don't even like cats. I should be more clear: I've met very few cats that didn't distinctly come across as ungrateful, self-absorbed, little assholes. And frankly I'm not sure if I like you, Eugene. I mean you're cute and all with your purring and pawing and snuggling but if we're going to be roommates now I have to ask myself : What's in it for me? Cat-pee treasure hunts? Okay, I'll admit the first few were pretty fun but every day Eugene? Then I remember how you looked at me with your little infected eyeballs. All a-mewing and a-purring and a-kneading the dusty wilderness of Eatonville, WA and I knew I couldn't just leave you there to die. To let you collapse, mewing and purring, in an open field where a hawk will swoop down and peck away at your tiny, empty intestines. Or let a pair of coyotes tug-of-war your limp body: scruff vs. tail until you're twisted and torn in half -- still mewing and purring and kneading with your mangled paws. And all of the life in you slowly drains from your itty-bitty cat veins as you gaze blankly into the impending darkness. Mewing and purring. So here we are, Eugene. Roommates. You've got a shot at the big-city cat-life now so don't blow it. All I ask is that you not be a little asshole. Just be courteous and respectful. And please try to use the toilet.