Worst. Pet. Ever.


Dani has had this cat named Cubby since he was young enough for any intelligent person to have thrown him in a sack along with the rest of his litter and a few bricks to be dropped into the nearest body of water.  Unfortunately, no one did that, and I've been wanting to kill him ever since.  He's sixteen now which translates in human years to worthless, same as all cats are at any age.

We used to leave the spare bedroom open for him.  He had his litter box set up in there just for him.  There was a baby gate in front of the doorway to keep the dogs out.  Didn't matter.  He pissed on the carpet.  Ruined a big section of it that we literally had to cut out and throw away.  Not content with that, he ruined a fouton mattress as well.  Clean laundry sitting on the bed?  Fuck it.  He'll piss on that as well.

And people say cats are clean.

You what's even more disgusting?  Cat vomit.  It's not that bad when it's dried up.  What's fucking disgusting is the sound of Cubby bringing up unchewed pieces of food.  Unchewed.  That's right; he doesn't bother to chew a lot of the time, presumably because he's a greedy, disgusting fuck.

And people say cats are low-maintenance.

I don't believe in letting cats wander the streets.  You wouldn't let any other pet wander out of your house to do its business in your neighbor's yard.  Yeah, some people do.  Those people are fucking idiots.  Just because we have a cat doesn't mean we let it out to kill birds and dig in your garden.  Cubby has lived his whole life inside, so the most he can handle of the great outdoors is sitting by the window.  Anything more than that freaks him the fuck out.

Every once in a while I'll be working on a project (read: Halloween) in the back yard, and I'll leave the door open if the weather's nice and I'm going inside for tool from time to time (Yes, a lot of the tools are in my office).  I won't notice if the cat slips out because 1) he has no business being anywhere near the back door, so I don't expect him to be and 2) he steers the fuck clear of me because I leave little doubt as to my feelings toward him.  Guess what?  He slipped out.  Rather than coming back in the way he exited, he instead stays outside yowling until someone goes outside and pushes him back through the wide-open door that just blew his fucking mind.

And people say cats are intelligent.

That's minor compared to the yowling I have to put up with other times.  When Dani cleans his litter box, Cubby stand there and whines in the most irritating of ways that only cats can do.  Spray him with water and he'll go under the bed and continue the noise.  Often he spontaneously breaks into this racket in the middle of the night.  At 4am, I am compelled to get out of bed, get the spray bottle, and transmit a bath to him beneath the bed.  This is always the consequence for the yowling.  He clearly hates being sprayed.  Does he stop the noise?  Of course not.

And people say cats are quiet.

This is a cat that, like cats in general, isn't the least bit affectionate.  People (read: single women) who say the species are actually loving are projecting their misplaced emotions on an animal unsuited for domesticity, and Cubby is a prime example of this failed attempt at inculcating a species' genome to something that can co-exist with humans, especially those with carpets.

When Cubby is finally dead, I'll be the one who rests in peace.


Copyright 2009 Alexplorer.
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