Fat CatI once saw a cat try its damnedest to murder a nun.  The cat, with whom I eventually formed a synergistic, if not loving, relationship due to long term co-habitation, was an asshole, but he was an entertaining asshole, and never did learn that if he concentrated on chasing the laser pointer, he wouldn’t notice that he was gaiting full tilt towards the wall.

But he was an asshole.  Face it ladies, all cats are, even the girl ones.  Which is why it is time for you all to face facts: no matter what we say to women of the world, us boys do not like your cats. Whats that, you say? Every boy you’ve ever brought home has said he liked Mr. Fluffykins?  You can’t possibly be that naive.  He was trying to get to your kitty through your pussy.

Boys don’t like cats. Case in point, you’ve never met one who owns one who wasn’t at least a bit… off.  Cats don’t even like cats.  What, you have two?  Maybe they’ll put on a little pussy-on-pussy show to get a treat, but the minute your back is turned sister, it’s all fur and fangs, and not in a good way.

Take the case of Nina and Roscoe. Nina and I dated pretty seriously a few years back, and it looked for a while like it might go somewhere, but there was one sticky wicket: Roscoe the Wonder Kitty. Ok, there were a few more issues than just the most evil cat that has ever walk the face of the Earth, but the cat definitely became the focus of conflict and eventual break-up for one simple reason: Roscoe the Wonder Kitty was trying to kill me.

You can call me paranoid or irrational, god knows that Nina did, but when a fifty pound cat tries night after night to climb onto your head and sleep directly on your nose and mouth, NIGHT AFTER NIGHT, something is up, the animal has a PLAN.  I mean that bald spot on the tummy you like so much to stroke (lets not even DISCUSS what I think about all the petting and stroking that comes along with you, cutie little kittie… oh fuck! now the kitty witty baby voice is in my head), he tried to use it to make a skin tight seal, and in doing so deprive me the ability to breathe.

Roscoe didn’t want to share his mommy with me, and to be honest, I felt the same way. So the choice was to go after Roscoe myself (solely in self defense) or let the girl go.  It quickly became obvious that there would be no compromise. I’ll never tell which one lasted longer. But suffice it to say there are two ways to parse the term “Cat Food”

Ladies, lets face it: men at best tolerate your cats.  But the fact that you have them just smacks of despair, loneliness, and impending spinsterhood.  Watching you shower all that affection on something that is congenitally unable of returning your affections, and which blatantly and oh-so obviously holds you in contempt just lets me know that I’ll be able to get away with anything so long as I rub up against you now and again.

I think if we were all really honest about this cats and humans thing, we would see that our two species don’t get along all that well, and maybe it’s time to make the mature decision and go our separate ways.

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