Monday, November 27, 2006

the saddest story ever told.


i want a cat. an orange cat. named floyd. i have wanted a cat for years. i had a cat growing up named oliver, and i loved him. he was white with orange spots and an orange-and-white-striped tail, and he was fat and lazy and sweet. since i have moved out of my parents' house 11 years ago, i have lived in dorm rooms, shared houses, and apartments - 14 in all, and none of them but the one i live in now allowed pets. oliver died when i was living in dorm room number 5. i will never forgive my college boyfriend for how utterly unsympathetic he was when oliver died. here is a transcript:

2:45 am. i have just returned from working at the bar. my boyfriend is asleep. i see four new messages on my answering machine but i am a very good girlfriend and don't listen to them so that i don't disturb him. my phone rings. it's my mom.
me: who died?
mom: it was oliver . . .
i start crying. my boyfriend shifts in bed. from the context of the conversation - "he died at the vet's office?" and "are you going to bury him in the backyard?" - it is probably pretty clear that i am talking about my cat and not, say, my father. but i am crying, and my boyfriend is tossing and turning. i am pissed that he does not get out of bed, sit next to me and hold my hand, even look at me. when i hang up i am still sniffling.
him: would you mind turning off the light?
pause.
me: oh. i am SO FUCKING SORRY to inconvenience you.
he sits up.
him: look, i'm sorry that oscar died or whatever, but you don't need to take it out on me.
me: OLIVER. his name is OLIVER. get the fuck out of my room. right now.
him: are you kidding?
me: GET OUT.
he does, with a very confused look on his face.
when we broke up a year later, i told him that i never forgave him for when my cat died, and he said "i know."

so now i finally live alone, in the apartment i have always wanted, and i have the boyfriend i have always wanted, and i decided that it is time to get the cat that i have always wanted. pos and i went and saw for your consideration (ehhh. i'd give it a C+. didn't love it) and to dinner last night with eb and sf, and they told us that they had just been at the petsmart down the street and they saw a couple of orange cats (possible floyds) that the anti-cruelty society is trying to find homes for. i got really excited and we went to check them out.

one cat was over 10 years old and gigantic - his name was mason, he looked like a feral bobcat, and he was awesome, although maybe a little scary. the card hanging on his cage said that his owner had to be moved to a retirement facility and that he wasn't good with children. pos said that his card failed to mention that he had eaten his elderly owner's face off, and that the retirement facility was the morgue.

i got to play with two cats - one was an orange cat named peaches who was small and sweet and purred a lot. the other had gorgeous shiny black-and-gray-striped fur and was kinda fat and playful - very awesome. his name was simpson. all of these cats have to be renamed.

the best thing about simpson was his pretty emerald eyes - which were crossed. for real. you couldn't look him in the face without laughing at how ridiculous he looked. the petsmart guy was really fond of him (his card said "this cross-eyed cutie needs a loving home!") and i could tell that he wanted me to like simpson, because most normal people would want the sweet little orange kitty over the retarded-looking cross-eyed one. of course simpson is the one that everyone insisted that i had to get, and i agreed. on the walk to the car we talked about what i could rename him - i jokingly suggested radio - and i was looking forward to the anti-cruelty society calling me about my application, which was actually pretty time-consuming, as it wanted my landlord's number (to make sure i can actually have a cat), asked me what i would do if my cat kept me up all night (eb told me that the correct answer was to play with and exercise my cat at night so that it would be tired), and wanted to know if i would have it declawed (the correct, anti-cruel answer would be no). they even wanted to know what times i would be available for a house visit to ensure that my cat was in a safe environment. i doubt that prospective foster parents for real live children have to fill out such a long application.

at home i realized that my left eye was really itchy and that my chin felt funny - kinda swollen. i was wearing a v-neck sweater, and the skin that was exposed when i carried the cats around was red and splotchy. then white bumps and weird raised lines rose up.

long story short: i want a cat, and i am now allergic to them. what a pisser.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

there is hope in the form of bizarre, genetically-designed, hypo-alergenic cats. but you can't get them from petsmart. and i bet they euthanize the cross-eyed ones. i am sad for you.
-kk

Miss Misc said...

I had a cat once, her name was Poochie. She'd claw the shit out of my older brothers when they'd pick on me. I had to give her away when I moved out of state and I forgot to write down the last digit of the new families phone number so I lost track of her! sigh..

Well point is, that sucks. Get some cortaid and go adopt the nearsighted homeless feline.

Allyson said...

I was never allergic to cats until I turned 22. Then suddenly I couldn't be around them.

Tim's parents have a cat. Last time we stayed there, I had such a bad reaction that my eyes got red and watery and my bottom lip swelled up to ridiculous proportions. I looked like a battered wife. I had to take Benadryl, which pretty much puts me immediately into a coma.

Sorry to hear about Future Floyd :(

SarahReznor said...

that sucks :( i'm sorry... i wanted an orange cat but we found Jossie tiny and all alone in my parents garden so we took her. she's gray - looks kinda silvery. i'm so sorry you cant get a cay :(