P*ssy at my doorstep…

Hey... it can happen??!!??Yeah, life is good.

Carole heads off to work at night, and I have “Puddy” show up right at the door, just minutes after she leaves… like clockwork. It’s a nice feeling to have someone snuggle with me at night again.

Carole knows, and has no problem with it. Truth be told, she’s actually encouraging it.

“Puddy” is apparently a housecat that somebody no longer wanted (or lost). I can tell, because she’s still kinda fat, and relatively clean, even though she has no collar or tags. She shows up every night looking for something to eat.

 

What did you *think* I was talking about?

Now that we no longer have dogs to eat our leftovers… Puddy and I have a great working relationship. She also boosts the kid’s spirits (If you recall, the kids were taken away, without even given a chance to say “goodbye” to them.), since we’re not legally allowed to have pets anymore.

Carole named her “Puddy Tat”. Original, no? This is the same person that named a black cat “Snowball” and an orange tabby “Dog” back in our N.Y.C. apartment when we first got married.

I’m trying really hard to be the tough guy here…. enforcing it in
everyone’s heads that we can’t keep Puddy as a pet.

The other night, the kids took her in because she was crying from the flashing lightning… I crashed after doing an all-nighter and going straight to work.

I was told Puddy spent the entire night sleeping on my chest.

So here’s the situation:

1) We can’t have pets…
2) I hate cats…
3) It’s EXTREMELY dangerous where we live. We spot bears crossing the road almost every day, looking for food for the upcoming winter (which is going to be a *BITCH*… you heard it here first!). We actually spotted a Bobcat on our property the other day, among other wild predators. Puddy won’t stand a chance out there alone. It’s just a matter of time before a wild animal either tears her to shreds, or gives her rabies.
4) You should see the kids’ eyes light up every time Puddy shows up. They go outside and play with her, try to sneak her in… then I have to be the bad guy and put her back out.
5) I’m probably more attached to this cat than I want to admit.

 

So what the hell do I do now?
Pictures of Puddy coming soon… (’cause I like to torture myself that
way.)

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Disclaimer: The views expressed herein are solely those of Eric Brooks. They do not necessarily reflect those of his employers, friends, contacts, family, or even his pets (though my cat, Puddy, seems to agree with me on many key issues.). In accordance to my terms of use, you hereby acknowledge my right to psychoanalyze you, practice accupuncture, and mock you incessantly with every visit. As the user, you also acknowledge that the author has been legally declared a "Problem Adult" by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, and is therefore not responsible for any of his actions.