My dad and eldest brother Josh just drove my entire, meowing life away in a 5 X 8 U haul truck. I’m not sure what condition my remains will be in when they arrive to its newest destination, New Hampshire, but I guess I should have thought of that when it was neatly displayed in my apartment.
I really don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into. Moving to a new job, in a new state, in a new home. It all feels a little bit on the unreal side. I can best describe the feeling by looking into the eyes of my complete mess of a feline; who nearly took my dad’s face off as we jammed her in her car carrier…the fear that’s always in her eyes, now circumstantially heightened, is striking. People ask me all the time why I even bother with her, which usually in turn renders me speechless. (I technically inherited her from my roommate; an evil, evil barn cat.) In truth, I guess I kind of detest the little thing. She has a serious attitude problem, she’s a straight up little bitch who knows she’s just pretty enough to be kept. She has a knack for turning her charm on when she’s done particularly bad things, like pee on my roommates clean clothes or unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper…again. And for two solid years she thinks that she is the center of all worth…WRONG. She is quite undeserving, at least as far as kitty’s go, she couldn’t be any more opposite of my other perfect cat. (Enter second cat…perfect.) In fact, I have a few friends who call him Jesus. I wish I could lie and say I’m kidding…but I’m not. Handsome is the Savior of cats….WWHD…what would Handsome do. Should be on cat collars with a picture of his sweet face; coming soon to a cat near you…
In an uncanny way, I am just like the little bitch-cat. She is in fact a cat version of myself; scared, seemingly narcissistic, and over-confident, to name a few of our dominant flaws. I do think, though, that people would hold in high regard my “keeper” characteristic amongst my many, many downfalls, even if they can’t figure out one single reason why to “keep” me. I have no idea why I keep her! Many times have I considered “accidentally” opening the doors and chasing her out. But I, too, hiss at people when I feel defenseless, and symbolically claw for my own life when the outcome is out of my control. I wouldn’t let you shove me in a cage without a vicious fight where I try to rip your face off either (sorry, face.) I would most certainly cry for an hour or two at the mere suggestion of such bull shit. So sadly I watched her today act out of pure survival, and realized I keep her for her near humane qualities (or my ridiculous bitch cat qualities…whatever.) Most prominently, I wonder if people see the apprehension in my eyes as clearly as I did in hers.
I keep her because someone’s got to love and look out for the impossible bitch “Lindsey’s” of the world. This version happens to be small, have fine graying hair, and requires allergy medicine on occasion. She’s also unfortunately expensive…typical. (WHAT?! We have good taste.) She is needy, overly curious, catastrophically messy; a tragic cliché of a cat. She is everything people hate in cats. Am I everything people hate in women? Fuck.
Is it weird that I see myself in a cat? Perfect. Love me or leave me…us. In the state of New Hampshire, we are now officially a two-fer. (*If you are not from DC, do read Lindsey’s dictionary definition: two-fer: noun; word attaching two objects; two for one deal. “Now that Lindsey spent $300 dollars in unnecessary shots and has fed her faithfully for over two years, she and her cat Luci are now unfortunately considered a two-fer; leaving Lindsey likely single until the death of said bitch-cat.”)
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