In which my pussy reveals to me the true meaning of Christmas

If you’re expecting things to get hotter than that title, you should go put  on your own sweater right now because this is a cold story about a cat in the winter years of his life.  This winter cat is the one who lives with me, and I am going to stop calling him ‘mine.’  He is not mine but merely a presence that I am forced to tolerate.  If you’ve been with me from the beginning, you know he is just a turd.  Well this turd is teaching me a lesson about giving and all of its hazards.

This story begins, as most Christmas stories do, with a crazy little occasion called Black Friday.  I turned my post-turkey Friday black by waking up at 3:30 a.m. and rolling my daughter and myself over to my friends house, so we could all go to Toys R us, and Khol’s, and the mall at an hour that didn’t make any sense.  I did this despite the nay-saying of the people who were impersonating the horses.  I just really thought that everything opening up at midnight to provide a stage for human tramplings was something I should see.  Well guess who didn’t see anyone get trampled.  ME.  I have the kind of Black Friday story that is rarely told but is probably more often the case than the carnage everyone likes to tisk tisk about.  In my Black Friday story, I drank two large cups of coffee and shopped while nearly half asleep.  I bought some intimates, a blanket for Karli, a stuffed bear for one of her friends, and a bed for my cat.  Now that I think about it, I apparently only bought items which had to do with going back to bed.  Hm.  I know I should have bought a TV because I think that’s what you’re supposed to buy on Black Friday, but I had just recently made the decision to tuck my very small television back into my closet so that it would stop trying to stifle my creativity.    All of this bullshit you see before you is the result of that decision.  I could be watching My So-Called Life.  You can stream it on Netflix.  Jared Leto. 

So, I bought my cat this bed because of the wacky sale and also because I thought it would solve all of our problems.  ‘Our problems’ are mainly me wanting him to stop grooming on my bed.  Mostly, I want him to stop licking his ass right next to my ear while I’m trying to sleep.  He actually doesn’t really have a problem or seem to worry about much in life except for something at 3 in the morning which makes him leave the room and go across the hall to cry loudly.  Despite my problem with him, I thought it would be nice of me to buy him a bed that is super-comfy.  I was carrying it around the store wishing I could shrink down to the size of a cat and lay in it myself.  Why wouldn’t he love it?  Oh God !   I remember why…because he’s a son of a bitch who would rather puke on my pillow than give a damn about me and my bedtime sensitivity to cat-tongue sounds.

So I brought him home and put him in it.  Of course he immediately jumped out and went back to the spot on my bed where I would want to be laying.  I was determined, though.  I would not let this cat push me around and not give me the satisfaction of seeing him curled up and cozy in his fancy little bed.  I put him back in three more times with the same result.  It wasn’t until I switched things up and put the bed on top of him that he realized we were going to do this thing.  He laid like that with the bed on top of him for a good minute until he decided to slide out from under it and sit down a few feet away. He must have felt a little defeated and vulnerable because the next time I put him in the bed, he licked it once and then laid down. 

I'm just not into it.

Now most days are like that first day.  We just play this ongoing game of Put.  I walk in the room and find him out of his bed, so I put him in it.  Sometimes he gets mad and bites me.  Sometimes he scratches me.  Sometimes, though he just stays there just kind of still defiant about it even though he is doing what I want him to. 

This has taught me to never buy a present for my cat at 4:30 a.m., and also it has taught me to give the kinds of gifts that money can’t buy…like this stupeh blog that I give to you free of charge because we’re tight,

and because I don’t know what else to do with these pictures of my cat and his bed.