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It’s been seventy hundred years since I have written anything and damn it’s hard to get back into it. I’ve had the flu, and I hate Hate HATE blogging about being sick, so I had nothing to say. Actually I had a LOT to say about how fucking sick I was, again, I hate blogging about being sick. Finally, I am feeling a little better, but sitting here thinking I have nothing to say. Perfect.

Oooo…wait. I do have something to say about being sick. I knew it when I did The Plunge that I would get sick sometime in the following few weeks and then people would start in on how I got sick from jumping in the river. I just knew it. And to those people: SUCK IT!! The flu comes from germs. From other people with the flu. Not from being cold. Hell, if that river was going to give me anything, it would have been superpowers. Which – I feel the need to point out – it did NOT! (WTF, river??)

Anyway, let’s see…um…nothing going on. At least nothing that doesn’t involve violent coughing jags and my poor, childbirth-ravaged bladder. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – those kids better study hard and get good jobs, because they OWE ME!

Oh, I know! We got a new cat. A couple of days before Christmas, I was in Petco buying presents for the pets, and as always, I had to head over and look at the Animal Rescue League cats they have for adoption. As soon as I got over there, I noticed a little black cat. I have a weakness for black cats – they have a special personality. Both of my previous cats (one gone, one still with us) have been black cats. Because of my Can’t Resist a Black Cat Disease, I decided to put my blinders on and walk right past the little thing. But she had other ideas. As I was walking past, she stuck her arm through the bars of her cage and grabbed my coat. And she would not let go. I stopped to look at her and immediately fell in love. She was tiny and cute and playful. She reminded me a lot of our first cat, Pussty – she had the same little bald-ish eye-to-ear stripes and the same long body, tail and legs. And then I noticed the sign on her cage saying she was a polydactyl and that she had two extra toes on each front paw and one extra on each back. I was SOLD.

I went home and had the following conversation with mr b:

Me: I found our cat.

Mr b: What? Angus? Was he outside?

Me: No, not Angus. Our new cat.

Mr b: oh, OK…wait, WHAT?

Me: Well, I was in petco today and…

Mr b: No

Me: …they had Animal Rescue League cats and…

Mr b: NO!

Me: …one of them looked JUST LIKE PUSSTY!

Mr b: Huh? Really? (I knew I had a chance at this point – I had his attention)

Me: Yep – she’s so sweet and tiny, and she’s a little evil and she grabbed me.

Mr b: We don’t need another cat.

Me: But she PICKED ME!

Mr b: I don’t c…

Me: She picked me with her crazy long arms. They’re abnormally long, just like Pussty’s! And she was swinging them around like weapons!

Mr b: But…

Me: She has the KUNG FU! Imagine her with Fat Angus! Or the dog! She could seriously fuck with the dog!

Mr b: We do not…

Me: SHE HAS EXTRA TOES!

Mr b: What?

Me: Extra toes. A whole shitload of them! It’s like a sign from God – we HAVE TO have her!

Mr b: How exactly is that a sign from God?

Me: Because God knows how much we would love a cat with extra toes!! Duh!!!

Mr b: Welllll…

Me: Her feet are huge! Like huge flippers! Huge, giant, dog-grabbing, magic, KUNG FU FLIPPERS!!

Mr b: Go get her.

I rushed back to Petco to get there before the ARL folks got there at 6:00. The whole way, all I could think was pleasepleaseplease don’t let anyone beat me to my cat (I was already thinking of her as MY cat). I got there at 5:45 and ran straight to the adoption cats, only to find that there was a couple looking at and *GASP* playing with MY CAT!

I tried to be subtle and hang back and wait for them to move it along, but those of you who know me are thinking, “subtle? Hahahaha!” Instead, I moseyed on up behind them and waited for my chance. When the woman leaned to the side a little, I shoved my face right in between them (I know! If the tables were turned, I’d be here ranting about the crazy ass pushy bitch in the Petco. But I don’t care. She was MY cat. She chose me.) I was trying to give them the jeebies so they’d leave, but they were jeebie-proofed. Finally, I heard the man say, “I’d take you home if I could.” And I relaxed a little. But just a little, because I knew firsthand that this cat had magical mind-changing powers.

Eventually, the couple left and I grabbed a nearby folding chair and planted myself in front of the cage, marking my territory and acting like a crazy person every time someone came near, talking loudly to the cat about how I was TAKING HER HOME! WITH ME!!!

Finally, the ARL people showed up and eleventeen thousand hours of questions and forms later, I had my cat. I walked into the house with the box behind my back and yelled to the kids, “Who wants an early Christmas present?” They came running (of course) and I set the box down and took her out. The dog came over to see what was going on and she immediately went kung fu on his ass and we all knew we had our cat.

She was already named Mittens and we thought about changing it, but one look at her paws and you realize she has to be called Mittens. Either Mittens or Holy Shit That’s Messed Up!

See? I was powerless to resist:
DSC_0172

No, seriously:
DSC_0170

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About sugarmag

Forty-sdjhfkjsdhfkjsdh year old mom of 2 - a 18 year old boy and a 11 year old girl. I love them very much, but they drive me crazy. I'm married and work full-time. I'm not sure which of these is the most exhausting, but probably the husband. I'm opinionated. I'm outspoken. I'm loud. I'm an over-sharer. I think Tom Cruise is a jackass. I like to say jackass. I like to swear, period. Fuckers. I love to read. I struggle with my weight. I love my job. I dress my pets up and ridicule them regularly. I am not afraid to cut my hair and I don't understand people who are. I hate getting old. I love to laugh. Make me laugh, OK?

11 responses »

  1. You didn't have anything to write but were sitting on THAT story?? :)I don't see where you had any choice but to bring her home. She's a fine looking kitty.Mittens? Hell, they look like 1st basemen's mitts.

  2. Dang. I love polydactyl cats. LOVE. My next cat (in eight or ten years, because the current feline ruler of this house would go ape with any new feline invasion) will be a polydactlyl. Or two.

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