My Cat Story

Zube Girl's post where she mentioned wanting a cat and Zube Boy forbidding it brought a little memory rushing back to me. And I thought I'd share it with ya'll.

About 10 years ago, while I was still with the exhusband (EH henceforth) the only thing I wanted for my birthday was a cat. And EH hated cats. His whole family thinks they are evil and come straight from hell. But it is the only thing I tell him that I want so finally he tells me that for my birthday I have his permission to get a cat. Hallelujah! Birdies sang and Jesus wept because we were all so overjoyed to be getting a kitty.

I spend the next couple of weeks thinking of what I'm going to name my kitten and imagining how cute she will be. Then EH does me a "favor" and goes to the animal shelter and brings a cat home. The ugliest cat in world, I shit you not. I cried when I saw her. She was a fat manx cat (no tail, just a little tab of a tail that would flip down and cover her anus) and was black and orange. Kinda the color of some pit bulls that I've seen. Not the tiny, cute, loving kitten I'd been dreaming of. And she was unfriendly as all get out.

Of course, I wanted to take her back. But EH said that if I took her back that I was wasting my chance for a cat. It was her or nothing. So I named the ugly thing Chloe and we grew on one another until she became the best and most beautiful cat in the world and she followed me all over the house. I adored her.

After EH realized that I was keeping the cat he confessed that he really didn't want a cat in the house so he picked out the ugliest cat hoping that I'd take it back. Fucker. No wonder we are divorced.

Now I'll get to the sad part.

It's about 2 years later and Chloe has been acting a tad off. Running away if I try to pet her and zooming around the house like someone is chasing her. I decide that she is going crazy and needs to go to the vet's. But first she needs a bath. Cause I can't take a dirty cat to the doctor.

I'm giving her the bath and she's all pissy and suddenly she gets all limp. I say "Who's the boss now you little bitch? Heh. You'll take this bath and like it, dammit." And I continue to soap her up and when I let go of her to rinse her she just slips underwater. I have just bathed a dead or dying cat. I yank her out of the water and give her CPR to the best of my ability but it didn't work. Cats stiffen pretty quickly after death so it was hard to do the chest compression thing.

When I see that she is truly dead I have a little bit of temporary insanity. I knew I needed to bury her but since she hated being bathed I didn't want to bury her wet. So I blew her dry with my hairdryer. I stopped when I saw sparks. I figured worse than drowning her would be scorching her corpse. Then I double bagged her in some new garbage bags.

I pick my burying spot and learn that we have no shovel. I have to go to wallyworld for a shovel. I'd been cleaning the house all day and I was wearing one of those big nightshirts with a bear on the front saying something like 'give me my coffee' and my hair was up in a broke ponytail. I looked like a nut on the drive to the store.

I had Chloe (in her bags) in the front seat with me because part of me was afraid that maybe she wasn't dead. Maybe she'd just had a stroke and was suffering some temporary paralysis. I didn't want her to come to and then smother in the plastic. I drove with my hand on her so I could tell if she twitched then I could yank the plastic off her.

By the time I run into the store and toss the shovel on the counter it's a little after 9 p.m. The clerk gives me and then the clock a weird look and asks me if I plan on doing some serious digging. I crank up with my incoherent crying and babbling about my dead cat in the car and no shovel and he pushes me on out the door.

When we get home it's too dark to bury her where I wanted and I didn't have a flashlight so I just turned on the porch light and dug a hole as far out as I could see. Which was about 5 feet from the front door. There were lots of tree roots so it took about 2.5 hours to dig a decent grave.

When EH gets home that night and asks about Chloe I tell him he got what he wanted and to look out the front door. It took him about 3 seconds to see the burial site since I'd covered it with some rocks and flowers. Then he's pissy because I buried her so close to the house.

I've never gotten another cat. She was such a great one that she can't be matched.