The Kitten.

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As a result of what I suspect may be out of control baby fever, Jay and I had been wanting to get a kitten for a while. When we moved to Washington this summer, my Dad’s slutty ass cat just had yet another litter of kittens.  We picked out the cutest one and took it home when it was old enough to be adopted.  We chose not to heed any of the warnings from his previous family such as the obvious red flag:  “One of the kids dropped that one on its head…”

The terrorizing started almost immediately. Apparently we had hand picked the most emotionally needy yet violent cat ever. I stopped letting it sleep in the bed because it would bite toes, fingers, and what was most shockingly painful to discover, noses. The little fucker also liked to scratch with its kitten needle claws as well. It particularly like to sleep on my neck, I think so he could have easier access to my exposed nose. Anyway, I started kicking him out of the room and shutting the bedroom door. In the beginning he meowed insanely loudly outside of the door. All. Night. Long. After time, he somehow learned to ram into the door and force it open. There was no escaping his reign of nighttime brutalizations, so I started putting him outside at night. All the while, secretly hoping he would run away to a more forgiving and patient family or get carried off by a bird of prey.

Most cats are afraid of my dog. She isn’t particularly mean, but cats especially annoy her and she loves to chase them away and bark at them. The kitten, of course, seemed to have NO FEAR OF ANYTHING, and would try to eat the dog’s food while she was eating, scratch the dog’s face all hours of the day, and for no reason I could figure out, it would get a running start, leap into the air onto the dog’s head, and launch herself off from her head and run away.

It was not scared of cars either. In the morning I would go out to start my car to leave for work. The kitten would either stand in front of it without moving, or it would jump onto the hood.  No amount of speed, braking, me screaming “Get Down! GET DOWN! GET DOWN YOU LITTLE IDIOT!”, or car horn would deter this kitten’s mission. I would have to get out of the car, take it off the car, jump back into the car, and try to speed off.  Unfortunately the little shitball was very fast and he would jump back onto the hood or the roof before I could speed away. This progressed (or actually regressed would be more fitting) into a morning routine of me jumping out of the car, picking up the cat, throwing it into the yard, running as fast as I could and jumping back into the car, slamming it into drive, and speeding off like a madwoman without even my seatbelt on. Most of the time I would have to swerve to miss the cat who had already made it to the road. Once as I was speeding off, he jumped up to try and get on the car and ended up slamming into the side of the car. I can only imagine the scene from the neighbor’s point of view.

It ripped up all my plants with his wolverine claws and shit in all of them.  He also liked to pee in all of my plants eventhough he was outside all night and most of the day. It is like he waited all day to come inside and do his biz in his own personal houseplant toilets.

Once, he ate a whole Ribeye steak that was vacuum sealed and defrosting in the sink.

The end of my rope came one night when the power went out. I was reading Game of Thrones by candlelight like a nerdling maiden when I decided to let the cat in the house. I opened the door and just as he crossed the threshold I noticed something in his mouth.  Just as I blurted out “Oh fuck is that a mouse!?” He dropped the alive mouse in the middle of my very dark living room.