And, The Cat Came Back...

It is time to make Spaghetti. The really cool and yummy kind from Kraft Dinners in the green box. But, I'm not eating alone this time: Theres a small black monster sitting in her seat at the table awaiting her cherished pasta.

A few months ago, I wrote about the wonderful time I had sharing my life with two kittens. And the missing part of that life when they were taken away. Well, one day, my friend Nikki called, and we talked about the rain, the park and other things. And, I had to ask about the little black kitten and if she's alright.

It seems she's bothering the family dog, and Nikki has to give her up. When she asked me if I'd like to keep her, I was shocked that i said yes defiantly, without even a thought. That's not usually me, I'm a morass of conflicting contradictions. Sometimes, I can't even choose a pencil if there's more than one.

When she came back home to me, she was tiny, and cute, and quiet, and well behaved. She was timid, but remembered me within the day. She was called Gigi, but never answered to it. I sat her down and we went through names with a soft "J" sound she might like better.

"Gigi? Jenny? Jackie? Jlo?"

She just tilted her furry head, and looked elsewhere for entertainment. That dust ball will do for now.

"eh, Josie...?"

And her head snapped back to me as she ran up and caressed my leg. She had chosen, and it figures she'd want to be named for a "Pussycat". What a nice pretty pretty kitty! So well behaved!

Lets jump to now, shall we?

That tiny fluffball with a wallflower attitude made it to her terrible teens. She's a big solid womanly cat with a loud persistant meow, and gigantic attitude. Loads of personality and ready to headbutt with me on everything. She runs about like she's late for everything and on crack. She only takes the time to look at me, knock something down off a shelf, then gives me a "whattcha gonna down about that?" stare. She rips up toilet paper rolls, and slides across the floor like a runaway train, making me wince when I hear DVDs and glass items crashing to the ground.

I now get instant parental headaches, and I wonder what I did to deserve such a fricken bratty feline. I treat her so well, and sometimes even spoiler her more than I really should. Most times I can't sleep because of her antics, and her nightly attempts to destroy. Why in the hell did I say "yes" all those months ago?!

I get my answer as I type this. A hear the soft padding of paws tromp up to me, and leap up upon my computer desk. She has a plushy jingle ball in her month and looks at me. I hold out my hand and she drops the ball into my palm. I guess it is play and fetch time. We do this for hours. She also brings me her leash, and I know it's time for walkies. This is stuff only dogs do, y'know. And when I come home, she greets me with loud purrs and a hunched leg rubbing. And I know when I fall asleep in my chair again, she'll crawl up and curl into a ball on my chest.

She's my little girl. Pain in the ass and all.

Such is a fathers folly. Maybe I should get her a new sibbling.

Ding! The spaghetti is done! She gets her small plate of simple noodles (her absolute favorite, beyond treats and catnip!), and we talk about her day...

Contractual Obligation Blog

I'm forcing myself to sit my ass down and write this.

Yes, it has been a while since I wrote anything, but I do have a good reason: Life's been too good to me to bitch about. Hell, I probably have 4 or 5 subjects to write about, and then it snows outside, or I feel like a walk, or whatever...and I put off the internet! What?! How can this be?! Look for a pod casing! It looks like Michael, but something just ain't right with dat boy...

So, Let me backtrack a bit.

Let me tell you about my best friend Whitney.

Oh crap, when I say this, it's going to not only sound bad, but I'll actually hear all of you smirk, but we met online. I will now pause for all of you to stop making "internet girlfriend" jokes, and "cyberchat" references. I'll step out for a quick pee.

All done yet? Okay, I'll wait some more and putter about the kitchen. Alright, rein it in, I have a blog to do.

Anyway, we "met" on her net TV show. I loved perusing various video chats and adding my 37 cents. After all, I have brilliant comedic timing, or so I have been told. I also like knocking down the usual rude chatters. And when I made a joke or reference, she actually kept up with me! Not only that, we'd turn out to do a long improvisational sketch, as we'd both be quick enough to keep the jest ball rolling. Naturally, we talked loooong after the show was done, and we became the best of friends. The kind you can talk to about anything, and know they're not trying to find an excuse to be somewhere else.

After six months of this, she got the bright idea to meet for Christmas. I was nervous as crap thinking Chris Hanson was going to jump out at the airport and ask if I could have a seat. What if the internet persona was a ruse? What if she's a homicidal maniac who's going to drop me into a pit and make me put lotion on my skin or I'll get the hose again? What if she's a he, and he's fanatical about his level 80 dark elf in World of Warcraft, and stinks of Cheetos and feet? What if she's Richard Simmons finally coming to get back at me for all the dark (but true) stories I told about him?

Have you ever met someone and it's as if you've known them you're entire life? As if they were a part of your mindset, and you didn't notice the missing part until it was spackled in. From minute one, it was as if we've known each other forever. And It was the best holiday i've ever had...and the quickest. When it was time to go, Whitney started to cry at the airport. I was afraid that people would think I slapped her like I was Sean Connery.

So, my December was quite busy. Oh, and guess who's moving in with me in a few months? Can't help it, she makes brilliant cookies, and the cat likes her. And when she was here, the house became a home.

Merry Christma..er...Happy ne...Inauguration hoedown, I guess...