LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY CAT! Part 1: The cattening.

I have a pet.

I have a cat.

I have an animal that resembles a cat that ate several other cats while wearing a fur coat.  We call her ‘Snowball’ for short but her full name is First Admiral Snowball Tubbington III, esq.  I named her that for two reasons:

1.  The acronym is FASTTTES and I have a 6th graders sense of humor.

2.  It sounds like the kind of name a cat would give itself if given the option.

I have had Snowball for about 3 years now and after finally getting her permission would like to share a few stories about her with you about how I got her as well as several stories making fun of her gluttony and obesity.

Enjoy.

The day I got Snowball was not a day I was planning on getting a pet.  I imagine that these types of purchases require a lot of forethought and charts weighing the cost-benefits of acquiring said creature. 

For me, it was because I was bored and it was a Thursday.  I was wandering the local pet store while my ex shopped for a large plastic bucket to use for a car wash when I saw her resting inside of a cage.

I should actually elaborate on that.  ‘Resting’ probably isn’t a good description of what she was doing.  I mean, she was resting but that was only because the cage was too small for her to stand, turn or really do anything but rest.  OK, back to the story.

So here I am, doing the standard ‘put a finger in the cage and pet the animal with said finger while hoping that creature doesn’t bite’ action so common to pet stores when one of the pushiest salespeople I have ever met before literally apparated before me.  I say that, because at no point was this person there when I knelt down to pet Snowball and there was no one in the area to speak of at all.  To this day I’m fairly certain I bought this cat from someone who gets off pretending to be store attendants.

With the most plastic of plastic smiles and eyes that looked like they were glued open, Clockwork Orange style she asked me if I would like to hold Snowball.  I said yes, not only because I love cats but also because I figured the cat could use a chance to stretch after being placed in what was clearly solitary confinement.  

So the lady stooped down, unlatched the cage and for the briefest second her grin and dead-eyed stare were replaced with real effort as she struggled to pull Snowball out of the cage and make some semblance of cradling her bulk.  “Here you go!” she said and then essentially tossed Snowball into my arms. 

Quick note.  Snowball is a fat cat.  Not saying fat like fluffy, or big-boned.  I mean fat.  As in if she were fluffy, it is only because her fat is causing her body to grow more fur so she can eat that via osmosis in the off-chance she isn’t fed in a timely manner.  As in if she were big-boned that would be in order to support her bulk. 

Because she’s fat.

I only mention this, not only to in a way describe my surprise at suddenly holding a cat that weighed more than most medium-sized dogs; but also what happened next.  Because at that point, the saleswoman leaned in close and drew my attention to the sign hanging above that let everyone know that all cat adoptions today were 60$. 

“But you can get Snowball here for just 20$!”  she practically said with the kind of desperation generally used for prom dates and gas station attendants.

“Why?”

“Well…” at this point, she leaned in close so Snowball couldn’t hear her.

Because animals speak human fluently.

“…she is really fat, old and doesn’t like to do anything.” she pulls away and gives this really sad shit-eating grin that usually happens right before someone says ‘bless her heart’.

“Bless her heart.” she said on cue.

I got very excited upon hearing this.  Not the bless thing.  But the part about her not wanting to do anything.  I don’t like pets that run around or talk too much or act like they’re alive.  I prefer my animals like I do my rugs.  I just want it to lie there and occasionally pick up food that falls to the floor.

“I’ll take her.”  I told the attendant who may or may not have actually worked there.

“…really?”  Apparently, she wasn’t expecting this response.

“Yes.”

So she rang me up and I took her home. 

Then I turned around and picked my ex back up because in my excitement I forgot about her.

 

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About gerrimyke

Nothing much to say really. A while back, I started to notice that as I was telling friends stories of my life, they were unsure if they were true or not. Then when they found out they were, suggested I write them down. So here we are.
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