It was oddly comforting. It also reminded me how terribly alone I am.
My other stories about cats:
We once had a cat named Midnight. It was black. I didn't name it. Thinking back, I don't think I ever got to name any of our pets, which probably explains my inability to love any of them. Anyway, she died by getting into my dad's engine when he started it. Oops?
My aunt has a lot of cats and dogs and I think a ferret that fucking woke me up at 6 a.m. every morning by nibbling on my toes. I'd think it was adorable if it wasn't six in the morning and fucking cold because they had trash bags for walls. My aunt once broke her foot and didn't go to the doctor because something to the effect of 'I don't believe in them.' I don't know. My uncle, her husband, doesn't have any teeth and a tommy gun in the attic. Anyway, I don't like visiting there.
I think if I had a cat, I would name him 'cool dude.'
/Post about cats.
By the way, my aunt's name is Bessie.
Any other post requests, you go ahead and let me know.
Monday, July 2, 2007
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1 comment:
I had a black cat once, left me by a nephew who moved away and couldn't take the cat with him. He had named it "Zamael," after some demon or ghost or other spooky booger.
When he came to visit some years later, he was very annoyed to find that the cat was healthy, happy, and quite dedicated to the name "Snowball."
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