Life 5: My Girlfriend, The Black Cat

After returning home the past few days, there has been a small black cat waiting eagerly at my back door. On Friday, I came home from work at 7:00pm and she popped up from behind the trash cans. On Saturday, I came home from Ashley’s Birthday Party at 12:30am and she popped out from under Josh’s Car. And on Sunday, I came home from work at 4:30pm and she was once again waiting at the back door. Was it synchronicity?

Originally, I invited the cat inside because we have a mouse that lives under the stove. The mouse occasionally eats the chocolate on my desk and has been copulating profusely in my closet. Or at least that’s what I assume he does inside my closet after eating the chocolate. Chocolate is an aphrodisiac and mice do love to make babies! Therefore, having a cat at my doorstep was exactly what I needed: an efficient, costless solution to my mouse problem. Unfortunately, what I didn’t realize was that she only came by for some love and affection; she could care less about the mouse.

After all, I think she just came by to hang out. She simply sat on the couch and watched television with me. I didn’t feed her anything. I didn’t force her to lie next to me. I let her drink out of the toilet when she felt the need, and then she tried to get into the shower with me! To be honest, I think it’s because she’s into me. The first time she came over we hit it off. Lots of heavy petting, quiet purring, and gentle nipping. Then, on the second night, she slept over. The next morning, she came and played with me in bed before I had to leave for work. Who was it that told me pussy doesn’t just come knocking at the back door? Boy, were they wrong! This is the best girlfriend that I’ve ever had! As long as the pussy is purring, why stop petting it?

And did I mention that I like cats too? The problem is when you tell most people that you like cats more than dogs they make several assumptions about you, most of which are an affront to your heterosexuality. After all, dogs are a Man’s Best Friend. Dogs love football, beer and women. Cats, however, are a Gay Man’s Best Friend. Ironically, they love to lie in the sun and let you watch them lick pussy, so to speak, which ranks very high on the list of 100 things that a straight man must see before he dies. Personally, however, I’d rather be dipped in deep dark chocolate and fed to the lesbians!

The fact of the matter is that I am big fan of cats not because I am gay, but because of the low maintenance costs of owning a cat. Cats don’t require walks in the bitter cold nor do they need to do their business outside. Cats don’t yip and bark, unless of course you have a violent bipolar cat that hates human contact. Now admittedly, cats won’t protect you from an intruder or fetch a ball, but who cares, isn’t that what bats and friends are for? Leave Lassie at home, Timmy, we’re trying to have a good time without chasing your barking bitch around all day!

So what does all this mean? To be honest, I learned two things: I need to get out more and I need a girlfriend! If I am excited to have an alley cat that lives at 310 Summit Ave hanging out with me at night, then I need to find myself a hobby other than watching television in my fleece pants. I had that pussy humming all night long, but unfortunately it was only the sound of a happy feline sound asleep. I think perhaps I need to attend a few weekly activities to meet real people, like bingo or trivia night. Or maybe I can try Jewish speed dating or meet people playing dodge ball. Or at the very least, if I am going to stay in the house, I can post on my blog on a regular basis! (And I hope that when I do, I can give people inspiration rather than just edgy humor...)

Maybe I was wrong when I said synchronicity killed the cat. She was no where to be found today, and I finally had some inspiration. I guess it was actually inspiration that killed that cat, but don’t let it out of the bag or else she’ll come back the very next day…

No, no, I was wrong, miserable forced humorless dual puns killed the cat. My apologies.