Oh sure, he looks cute and innocent enough, but as with everything, looks can be deceiving. Some of you may be thinking how evil could a sweet little thing like that be? My answer to you is Pretty Damn Evil.
Let me lay down why I believe this, and why, even with my unending love for all animals, I despise this cat.
Reason #1 is my hands look like I'm into some kind of self mutilation. I have had kittens and puppies before, so this dance is not new to me. I know during a certain part of their growth, they will, inevitability, need to chew, claw and play. This little hell spawn takes it step further by subjecting me to an barrage of attacks while I'm cooking, scratching an itch, sitting quietly reading a book, or trying to sleep. If it moves, he attacks it with a passion only found in wild animals hunting for their food. I have no idea why my hands in particular seem offend him so much. There is no moving once I am under the covers in bed. No adjusting the blankets, no rolling over, no breathing or talking. Any of the previously listed brings down a wrath of sharp little pin pricks and little razor teeth. Forget about tying your shoes. Too many strings. I have settled for a nice pair of zip up tennies, although they aren't much better. Zippers seem to attract his attention as much as shoe laces do. Plus, my dad gives me crap for having zip up shoes. I get to hear "Too lazy to tie your shoes anymore?!" No, dad, I'm tired of having to pull my flesh out from underneath the kitties claws and try to band-aid it back on so my hands don't end up looking like the crypt keepers. At least the zip shoes go on faster. Less time for an attack to be planned.
Reason #2 is he is constantly getting into EVERYTHING. Straws are also part of the offensive items list. Any time there is a fountain coke in the house, it has a life span of about 10 minutes, depending on how distracted the evil one is. We have had to move the dog food bag (all 30 plus pounds of it) to a secure location or it gets chewed open and little doggie food bits go everywhere. This particular event happened last night at about 12. I, being the smart person I am, thought it would be safe in a cabinet. Wrong. Seems cabinet doors are no match for an evil spawn kitty with more determination than body mass. All of my emery boards have gone M.I.A along with 90% of the pens. Anything left on the coffee table is relocated to the floor where the dogs promptly pick it up and eat it. We have lost all sorts of goodies due to the tag-team efforts of Hell Cat and accomplices. One of their personal favorites is Hubby's creamer. There really is nothing like coming home after a hard day at work only to discover that your house looks like a crack factory blew up inside it.
Reason #3 is he is a worse mooch than the dogs. How this is possible I have no idea. The dogs, themselves, sit at our feet while we eat, sending out "Gimme some food, we are STARVING" vibes, and looking at us with the biggest, saddest eyes on the planet. Any person who would walk in on this nightly ritual would swear that we beat and starve our animals. Anyone who hangs out there longer than a few minutes knows this is not the case. That doesn't stop the doggies from trying to convince strangers of their plight though. I can handle/ignore the pathetic looks and the vibes. What I cant handle is fighting off an evil little fur ball the entire time I'm trying to stuff food in my own face. Process goes something like this:
Take a bite, throw the kitty. Take another bite, grab kitty (who is trying to shimmy up my pant leg) and toss him again. Take bite, laugh as the hubby fights off kitty. Take bite, realize laughing has brought attention back to me, grab kitty before he can get all four paws onto my plate, throw him again. Give kitty a small bite so I can have a moment of peace to shovel down what's left of my dinner. Notice doggies saw me share with kitty, therefore guilting me into giving them a little piece. Put dishes in sink, fight off kitty who insists that he could do a better job of cleaning my plate, even if it has already been rinsed and is in dish water. Repeat
It amazes me that this cat will eat anything. Seriously, the only thing I have found that he doesn't like is marshmallows. Chocolate, chips, cookies, onions, hamburgers, pizza, lasagna, you name it, he has tried it and came back for more. He caught a fly last night and ate that too.
Reason #4 is the early morning Ultimate Fighting Championships between Hell Spawn and Midnight. For some reason 5 am seems to be the perfect time to start some shit with the dog. EVERY MORNING! Even on weekends! Starts with a pounce, a well placed bite on the tip of a doggie nose, a yelp, followed by some "Rouwrouw" from Midnight, with the kitty bouncing around, jabbing, ducking, and dodging the dogs snapping jaws. Usually ending with me fumbling in the dark for the soft body of the Hell Cat and tossing him over board. What do you do, Mid, that pisses him off so bad first thing in the morning?! Well, stop it! I need that extra hour of sleep before the alarm so rudely starts screaming at me.
I have to admit, the spawn of Satan has his good moments. His only saving grace are those rare moments when he has put the deadly claws away and busted out the purr box. Then he is as cute as.....well....a kitten. It doesn't last, though, and he promptly goes back to being a holy terror.
Don't believe me or any of this? Come spend the weekend with me. I dare ya. Just be sure to bring plenty protection.
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