Cat Daddy

So, yeah, I once dated a woman who had, at one point, 27 cats. At one time. That's as in 2 dozen with 3 to spare.

No, that was NOT a typo. That's 2 groups of 10, plus 1 for each day of the week. That's one for every day in February except for the Hallmark Holiday, Valentine's Day... on non-leap years, natch.

You do know that Valentine's Day went pretty much uncelebrated until Hallmark decided they needed some sales to fill in the long gap between XMas/New Years/Hannukah and Easter, right? Well, that's why all men the world over have to suffer for forgetting one more event each year. Thanks Hallmark. (You're going DOWN).

Okay, so maybe that's not "the real story" but it sounds good, doesn't it?

Now, are you with me on this whole
TWENTY-SEVEN not-a-typo almost thirtynumber-of-cats thing? Good. Now, stay with me here. I know some people mustwonder how this sort of thing can happen. Well let me tell you... this is a blog, after all.

Some years ago I was taking a computer science class at the university and I met this interesting graduate student who worked the computer lab. She had long brown wavy hair and a nice, full figure and a mind to boot. I was an undergrad at the time and she was only a few years older than I. Put plainly, she was curvy in all the right ways back then and I, being single, decided to make an effort at... umm... interfacing with her ports. Yeah, that's it. (Geeky sex innuendos galore.)

Well, after numerous conversations and various flirtings with flirtation on my part, I discovered that her home computer was in need of a hard drive upgrade. Now, matter of advice, when meeting computer geeky chicks, it doesn't hurt to actually be one yourself; I was working full time as a computer tech/programmer while taking classes. Naturally, I put my best foot forward and offered to get her both a great price on the drive plus free installation from me. Are you seeing where this was going? PC dog, baby.

Yes, this basically got my foot (and the rest of me) into her door for some more personal time to try to "get to know her". Yes, we men always try to use our favors of our technical prowess to get to women. We aren't necessarily proud of it, but hell, use whatcha got, you know? Even if it's just geek knowledge of computers - gotta use your whole arsenal with women these days.

Unfortunately, timing intended that it was not the time for me - she was dating/living with some drunkard of an a$$hole at the time so my hopes were dashed.

At the time, she had 4 cats, I believe it was, and one of them, a huge Maine Coon named Apollo, absolutely loved sitting on my lap and, well, drooling as I pet him and worked on her PC. He was a beautiful cat... and apparently a great judge of character - he liked me, hated her then abusive drunk of a boyfriend.

this is a Maine Coon kitten:



The cat wasn't happy about it but we parted ways. We spoke from time to time later on but eventually lost contact completely.

Side note: She apparently tried to get in contact with me about a year later, after she had kicked the habit or, rather, kicked the one WITH the habit to the curb, but made a tactical error in calling my brother's number looking for me and I never received the message at the time. This was not an uncommon occurrence with phone messages routed to me via him.

And you know? Some things never change. He still doesn't tell me things until the last minute... or after. Ah well, guess ya gotta love family, right? I mean, ya gotta... no?

Now, where was I? Oh yes... so years go by and I joined a pool league (8-ball and 9-ball) and lo and behold, who should I be playing on the opponents team then my once erstwhile object of desire but my once lab TA. The years hadn't been very kind to her, but neither had they been so kind to me and we struck up a conversation and exchanged numbers and email addresses.

Yes, it all sounds like such a romantic tale, doesn't it? Ha! If only I had enough web-space to tell the whole tale in all its attendant glory... but I digress.

Over the next few weeks we got to conversing, we got to flirting, we got into promises of a massage from me, something I've been told I should do as a pro - I guess if my music career falters, at least I have a backup, right - we got together, we got into a groove, we got into bed. The rest of the relationship followed a similar pattern - we got together, we got into a routine, we got me to move in, we got into a rut, we got into arguments, we got into fights, we got separated, I got me moved out. But that's not where the cats came in... oh no, them cats came earlier than all that.

Now, I kept paying rent at my house and this always stuck a burr in her side but I had a roommate I was helping out by doing so...

Anyway, at this point, she had, let's see... 5 cats. Then the oldest, Apollo, passed on. This left 4. Yes, please check your figures just to make sure.

So, let's call the girlfiend Catlady for simplicity's sake. Now Catlady was upset and went to take her recently deceased cat to have him cremated. I know. It was the first I had ever heard of someone doing that with a pet but I have since come to learn that it is actually pretty common. So, she went to pick the cat up at the vet and while she was there...

Catlady saw these 3 kittens in a cage, all in need of homes. 1 girl, 2 boys.

Yes, of course they were cute. All baby animules are cute. The girl was very fluffy. She told me all about them when she returned home and said she thought about bringing them home; all the cats she had at this point were at least 9 years old and most were in their teens.

I thought that the 3 kittens would be good for her. They play. They frolic. They do goofy kitten things that make television audiences the worldwide utter a collective "awwwwwwww."

We went later that week to collect the ashes and brought home the 3 kittens. The female, well, Catlady absolutely adored her... yes, this becomes important later in this tale.

Some time later she had to take those 3 kittens in for "fixin"...

Now, why the hell do they call it "FIXING" a cat when that part will no longer work when it's done? They should really call it what it is and say they are "BREAKING" the cat. Am I the only one who thinks this way?

Back to the point, the vet had 6 more kittens in there and they needed a short term house-sitting situation - basically a foster home to keep them for a few weeks until they were old enough to GET BROKEN and given away. Catlady volunteered to take in these exceedingly flea-coated baby kittens to foster.

"Umm, excuse me?" said I. "You ARE planning to give them back in 3 weeks, right?" (We had 7 cats between as at this point - you're keeping up with those figures, right?)

"Of course, " Catlady replied.

Of course. That's what she said. Of course.

Maybe more like OFF course, cause that's where THAT plan went - right off course. 3 weeks came. 3 weeks went.... 4 weeks... 5 weeks.

"Aren't you supposed to take them back now?" I asked.

"I decided to keep them, " she said.

"YOU decided? Umm, hey, I'm the one that has to clean the litter boxes and buy all this extra cat food.... don't I get any say so in this matter?" I queried.

"But I lost my favorite just over a month ago..." and she broke into tears.

DAMMIT. I cannot fight a woman crying. It be me kryptonite. I am so weak.

So SEVEN cats, became THIRTEEN cats.

That's right,
Just like that.
We now had
Thirteen cats.

And 1 large and 1 small litter pan went to 2 large and 1 medium litter pan.

And I got the JOY of scooping it up every other day.

Now, I will give her this much credit. For all the multitude of pussy in the house, she really did a very good job of keeping it clean and keeping the cat stench down to a very minimal roar.

No, really. It wasn't bad.

Trust me - I've been in a house with cats that weren't fastidioulsy cleaned up after and it can get VERY bad. VERY VERY bad. Catlady's house was amazingly scent free.... except near MY demesne, of course, the Land of Litterbox.

A few weeks later, she decided to go talk to the county shelter about helping them with fostering cats.

Can you see bad news rolling at me rapidly here?

That's right. A whole month later? 3 more kittens. But what could I do? Someone had actually put them in a garbage bag and tried to drown them in a lake.

People like this want to be treated in exactly the same way. They should get what they want. Killing lil baby kittens. How could anyone be so freaking heartless? You wanna do that? Come talk to me. I'll FIX YOU. Permanent like. I have a big freezer in a basement. In Wop's basement... no one will can you scream... and no one will notice you gone cause that freezer seats 3. Truly.

Anyways, just a week or so later, a full grown really fuzzy mother cat and her REALLY STUPID oversized kitten came to live. That kitten was about as dumb as a can of paint. I mean REAL dumb. He was like the Forrest Gump of cats... only MORE stupid.

My protests at each of these fell on deaf ears.

How many cats are we up to now? Oh, lets' see 13 + 3 more + mom + stoopid = 18. EIGHTEEN. That's 3 large + 1 medium litter pan that I had to now CLEAN DAILY. Do you know how much litter gets... consumed on a daily basis by EIGHTEEN cats?

Well, I only had a week to figure it out cause she got 3 more shortly after that. And I barely had time to stop my head from spinning and shouting "NO MORE" at her at the top of my lungs when another FOUR rolled up into the house.

That's TWENTY-FIVE cats to you and me.

Oh, and by the way, YES, we named each and every one of them. I had finally memorized all those names when she got 2 more.

So that's TWENTY-SEVEN.

I cleaned 5 large litter pans each day. It was heavy. Cats everywhere.

Two more of her cats passed on and one of the first 3 newbies took off and ran away, which left 24. One for each and every hour of the day. Hooray.

Now, I love cats as much as some and more than most, but damn. This was one of the several issues that led to our eventual breakup. Not the only issue, by any means, but one of several. Of course, this relationship did last for some time - 2 years... maybe 3? I think the traumatic memories of litter pan cleanup have forced me to forget some of those moments.

And can you believe that one of the very real reasons I stayed for so long was because:

I was going to miss those cats.

One in particular. That little girlie cat.

Do you notice how, sometimes, a pet chooses its owner moreso than the owner chooses it? Well, no matter how hard she tried, Catlady could never get Girlie, for that is the poor name she gave it, to return all the attention she tried to lavish on her. Me? I tried staying away from her so they could form a bond but no matter what I did, she would come to me. We'd be sitting on the couch, surrounded by cats of course, watching some CSI and *blip bippity bliP* in would trot Girlie. She would walk AROUND Catlady, just out of her reach and then hop up into my lap and put her paws onto my chest and look me straight in the eyes as if to say, "Love me, daddy".

So I would pet her very silky fur, which was one of the reasons Catlady adored her so... and then Catty would reach over and try to pet her and Girlie, well... she was a bit of a picky bitch and she would actually run away and get out of her reach.

To be spiteful, when I told her I was leaving, she refused to let me take ANY of the cats - not even the ones who so obviously chose me. Then she tried to "pawn off" the 5 worst behaved cats on me, saying that I liked them best anyway... which was truly NOT the case. And I would have taken them had I the space. As it was, I really only had decent space for maybe 2 cats, due to my roommate situation (allergic). But it was all 5 or none... so now I have none.

Wop is sad. He has no cats.

Sad Sad Wop.

Scarily enough, the action figure above looks a bit like her... except her hair was brown when I met her. And sort of a brownish grey when I dated her. No, really. But she doesn't wear pajama pants... sweatpants or shorts instead...

And, fyi, the cats were all well fed and attended to and given mucho love-o, for real. Just not enough space in her, get this, 1100 square foot house for all that pussy...
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