Friday, November 05, 2004
when's my cat going to die?
One can't help but wonder why God made the world exactly the way He did. There are countless mysteries in the world. Like why does light travel so much faster than sound? Why does our hair stop growing, but not our ears? What's the deal with the appendix anyway? But most of all, I want to know why cats' lifespans are so much longer than the time it takes for us to get sick of them?
Rachel and I got Bailey in 1999, not long after we got married. Rachel decided that she wanted a cat. I didn't, but we were newlyweds, and I still wanted to get her everything she wanted. We had nothing better to do one day, so we went looking for a kitten. Have you ever realized how hard it is to get a kitten these days? Seems like you used to be able to go to a pet store, plunk down some cash, and walk out with a cute little fluffy kitten. Well, thanks to Bob Barker, cats no longer reproduce, so we've now resorted to cloning as the primary way of making cats. So for whatever reason, the "pet stores" I remember don't seem to exist anymore. Don't you remember going to the mall and playing with the bunnies in the little round Plexiglas ring, trying to get the birds to say something, anything, watching the helpless barking puppies piled on top of each other in that room with all the cages that only pet store employees are allowed to go into. At some point these pet stores seem to have disappeared completely. You can't find them. Anywhere. Apparently if you want a dog you have to either: a) go to a breeder who is going to charge you an arm and a leg, or b) pay only an arm to "adopt" a dog. The leg you save on the dog will soon be bitten off anyway. But for cats, you have only one option: adoption. So we went to the adoption areas at every PetCo and PetSmart (is it just me, or are these the same exact store?) all over Austin and found nothing but ugly, full-grown cats. Yuck! Finally, the day was just about over and we found one last place that was about to close up shop. They had one kitten, a mangy little black thing with a white "poof" on his chest and an ugly sore on his head where some other animal had bitten him. His pre-adoption name was Star. He wasn't our top choice, but we took him home anyway. Adoption fee: $70. Welcome to the family, Bailey.
Bailey was a pretty good cat for several years. He slept on our pillows, slept on the couch, slept on top of the refrigerator. Sometimes he even woke up. He was pretty cute and not too much trouble. What else can you ask of a cat? We were okay with him and he was okay with us. But we have a real kid now, not one of those pretend kids that pets become for husbands and wives who don't have children. We are Bailey's owner now, not his Mommy and Daddy. Bailey still sleeps most of the day, but now it's done exclusively under the bed. He does come out, but only to meow relentlessly whenever his food bowl is not overflowing with food. Or to deposit massive amounts of hair on our pillows, sheets, clothes, curtains, furniture, and everything else within a three mile radius. In either case, it's usually in the middle of the night, the only time he doesn't sleep.
As hard as it is to get kittens these days, it is a thousand times harder to get rid of cats. The only options are: a) open the door and let nature run its course, or b) pawn them off on unsuspecting friends, neighbors, and family members. Notice that I did not say c) give them away to a loving family. These loving families want kittens, not cats. Then in five years they will stop loving them, get tired of them, and will then be in the same boat we are.
So Bailey is now five years old, which in cat years is like 35, I guess. But Bailey is not like a typical 35 year old. He doesn't have a job, or a family, or a life. He doesn't do anything to make us proud. He can't do tricks. He doesn't have a 401(k). He's mangy and ugly and fat. Somehow we raised one of those loser 35 year olds who lives in his parents' basement and only comes out to complain that he's out of Big Red and Cheetos. But he still has so many cat years left.
Anybody want a cat?
¶ monger187 wrote this on 11/05/2004
Rachel and I got Bailey in 1999, not long after we got married. Rachel decided that she wanted a cat. I didn't, but we were newlyweds, and I still wanted to get her everything she wanted. We had nothing better to do one day, so we went looking for a kitten. Have you ever realized how hard it is to get a kitten these days? Seems like you used to be able to go to a pet store, plunk down some cash, and walk out with a cute little fluffy kitten. Well, thanks to Bob Barker, cats no longer reproduce, so we've now resorted to cloning as the primary way of making cats. So for whatever reason, the "pet stores" I remember don't seem to exist anymore. Don't you remember going to the mall and playing with the bunnies in the little round Plexiglas ring, trying to get the birds to say something, anything, watching the helpless barking puppies piled on top of each other in that room with all the cages that only pet store employees are allowed to go into. At some point these pet stores seem to have disappeared completely. You can't find them. Anywhere. Apparently if you want a dog you have to either: a) go to a breeder who is going to charge you an arm and a leg, or b) pay only an arm to "adopt" a dog. The leg you save on the dog will soon be bitten off anyway. But for cats, you have only one option: adoption. So we went to the adoption areas at every PetCo and PetSmart (is it just me, or are these the same exact store?) all over Austin and found nothing but ugly, full-grown cats. Yuck! Finally, the day was just about over and we found one last place that was about to close up shop. They had one kitten, a mangy little black thing with a white "poof" on his chest and an ugly sore on his head where some other animal had bitten him. His pre-adoption name was Star. He wasn't our top choice, but we took him home anyway. Adoption fee: $70. Welcome to the family, Bailey.
Bailey was a pretty good cat for several years. He slept on our pillows, slept on the couch, slept on top of the refrigerator. Sometimes he even woke up. He was pretty cute and not too much trouble. What else can you ask of a cat? We were okay with him and he was okay with us. But we have a real kid now, not one of those pretend kids that pets become for husbands and wives who don't have children. We are Bailey's owner now, not his Mommy and Daddy. Bailey still sleeps most of the day, but now it's done exclusively under the bed. He does come out, but only to meow relentlessly whenever his food bowl is not overflowing with food. Or to deposit massive amounts of hair on our pillows, sheets, clothes, curtains, furniture, and everything else within a three mile radius. In either case, it's usually in the middle of the night, the only time he doesn't sleep.
As hard as it is to get kittens these days, it is a thousand times harder to get rid of cats. The only options are: a) open the door and let nature run its course, or b) pawn them off on unsuspecting friends, neighbors, and family members. Notice that I did not say c) give them away to a loving family. These loving families want kittens, not cats. Then in five years they will stop loving them, get tired of them, and will then be in the same boat we are.
So Bailey is now five years old, which in cat years is like 35, I guess. But Bailey is not like a typical 35 year old. He doesn't have a job, or a family, or a life. He doesn't do anything to make us proud. He can't do tricks. He doesn't have a 401(k). He's mangy and ugly and fat. Somehow we raised one of those loser 35 year olds who lives in his parents' basement and only comes out to complain that he's out of Big Red and Cheetos. But he still has so many cat years left.
Anybody want a cat?
¶ monger187 wrote this on 11/05/2004
