Hey peeps...or should I say "fellow cat haters"...I am The Family Cat.
This is me....the one with the stripes.
Are you thinking I look pretty damn uncomfortable?
You'd be right. Did my stiff arms give it away? Perhaps the scared shitless look on my face might have clued you in? Or maybe just the sight of this child's hands squeezing my poor little chest in a death grip made you grimace even just a little bit...
Let me introduce you to my living nightmare....
I know, I know. They look so adorable...all happy and cuddly on Christmas morning. Smiles so bright and cheery, as if they couldn't harm a fly, right?
Take a look at this next picture of me and tell me your opinion hasn't changed.
Yeah, I thought you'd see my side of things.
So let me just tell you what life was like BEFORE the nightmare began.
Picture it...it was August 2000 when I was adopted by a super sweet young lady and her fiancee (at the time). They saved me from an untimely demise and brought me home to their tiny, yet cozy, 2-bedroom condo.
Upon arrival at my new home, I was introduced to my 2 roommates, Maggie and Brady. The family rabbits.
I was cool with them....as long as they didn't get in my way. Any time they'd scurry by me, I'd quickly reach out one of my paws and attack them. I never really meant any harm...cats can't resist mice...I mean, rabbits.
So, yeah....karma's a bitch and all that crap. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Trust me, folks, I knew my fate was sealed, 4 years later, as soon as the sweet young lady's belly began to grow at an alarmingly fast pace.
Pretty stupid of me to think they'd be happy with just the 3 of us cuddly animals...eventually, all good things must come to an end.
As lame as those rabbits were, they must have been smarter than they appeared because they both decided to kick the bucket before the kids were born.
Fricken rabbits...now, they were all up in rabbit heaven, hopping around and enjoying their new digs....while I was stuck in hell, basically crossing my days off on a calendar and eating stale cat chow.
The lady and the man adopted another rabbit, in the meantime, so I at least had someone else to take my anger out on. What more could a cat want but her very own personal scratching post...in the form of a harmless, unsuspecting furry bunny.
Then the spawn were born....the first set, anyway. Cole and Bella. Bella and Cole. Go ahead and do your collective sighs...and then I'll fill you in on the real deal.
Okay, so these spawn....these horrible demonic babies....made my life a living hell. They pawed at me, they grabbed my tail, they tugged at my ears...they made me wish that cats had only 1 life, instead of 9.
And you know what....no one came to my rescue. NO ONE. They would watch the kids terrorize me and say, "Awww, look at how much the babies love the cat". If that was love, I'd hate to see how they treated someone they despised.
So, yeah...pretty much hating my life at that point. I decided to join forces with the skanky rabbit, where we spent most of our days plotting our takeover...misery loves company and all that shit.
Before our plan could come to fruition, something devastating happened. The man and the lady had ANOTHER pair of spawn.
Really?! Two kids at a time....TWICE? Who the hell does that?! It was like a huge cosmic joke or something.
From there, I tried to spend as much time as possible outdoors...standing in the middle of the street, praying for a high-speed vehicle to put me out of my misery. I sought out other cats in the neighborhood, picking fights with even the meanest of the mean...in the hopes of knocking off 1 or 2 (or 6) of my lives in one shot. No such luck.
So I spend most of my days now pretty much in a catatonic state, just waiting to meet my maker at Rainbow Bridge and cursing out those damn rabbits for leaving me here all alone in Cat Hell (the 3rd one eventually died, as well...of a broken heart, I'm sure).
And, no...that is not a smile on my face in the above picture. Merely just trying to savor whatever oxygen I have left in my lungs as the child squeezes my rib cage so hard that it literally forces my stiff arms to cross in front of me.
Oh good God....we're on the move now. That's why the picture below is so blurry. The lady had a hard time keeping up, as the child kept whisking me off here and there. I'm nothing but a puppet to her....an unwilling playmate of sorts.
Here I am trying to escape from her clutches. I'm fully aware that I'm high up on a staircase but....do I really care, people?
You know they say that, if you're ever kidnapped (or catnapped), you should never let your assailant take you to a 2nd location. Let's just say I've watched Oprah a few times in my life, when I've been fortunate enough to have the house to myself.
I knew if this child got me in her room....you know, behind closed doors, it would mean hours of pure torture for me. She'll make me sleep with her...holding me hostage for hours under her bedsheets. Sure, it may sound like a cat's dream but I can assure you that it is NOT.
Oh yeah, and here's the part where the child remembered that her beloved Blues Clues stuffed animal was still downstairs so we had to turn around and go back to the family room.
Just look at how she's grasping me...by the freakin' neck with just ONE hand, folks. And the whole time, the lady is snapping pictures. At one point, the lady did say, as weakly as possible, "Bella, please use two hands when you're holding the cat".
Uh, how about, "Put the fucking cat down"!? That would've been MY preference. I'da been the lady's friend for life had she come to my rescue. But no....after all, I'm just a lowly animal and they are humans.
Apparently, humans are higher up on the food chain, so they say. However, I dare you to ask any random cheetah out there next time you see one and I'm sure he'll disagree.
Now, I know most of you are probably thinking..."So what....you're wishing for death anyway...why not just let the child take you upstairs and snuff the life outta you?"
Like everyone else in this world, I want my death to be on MY own terms, not the child's terms. Besides, I'd rather endure a quick death...one that doesn't leave me suffering and begging for help. Makes sense, right?
So now you all know why it sucks to be The Family Cat. If any of you parents out there who are reading this have a cat (or 3), do me a favor.
Take a minute and open a can of tuna, empty the contents out onto your best china and serve it to your humble, constant companion, the one who loves you unconditionally even though you gave birth to the devil's spawn and forced us to go along with your evil plan.
What....you don't have any tuna? That's okay, we also enjoy shrimp and other fine seafoods....or prime rib. Cats aren't picky....we lick our own asses, remember?
After the kids are in bed, we sure would appreciate it if you'd cuddle with us on the sofa while you watch tv...as you pour an entire bag of chips down your throat, like you do every single night.
Another thing I learned from watching Oprah is that pets are man's best friend...we're a huge source of comfort to our owners.
Which begs the question....when's the last time you heard of a child being described as man's best friend and a huge source of comfort?
Yeah, let that one roll around in your brain for the rest of the day....