My Penance

My Penance, Walking the Walk

 

In 2005, my wife told me she wanted an Orange Tabby.  So in a mood to please, I drove to the S.P.C.A adoption center in Vancouver, WA and we picked out this one kitten that was just excited to get taken out of his cage. 

We sat with him for about an hour as he just curled on our laps and purred.  This was proof enough that he was a fit. So we took “Simba” (pre-named) home.  He did well that night then the next evening he was standing on the Master Bedroom sink and I went to pick him up and he hissed the most frightening Halloween sound you’ve ever heard.  He even went into attack mode.  Wife and I looked at each other and with telepathy said: “WTF”?

30 years ago I learned two very important principles about pets. 

 

1. Getting a pet is not like buying an appliance.  You can’t just take it back because you don’t like it. You CAN return it, but it shows what an irresponsible/immature owner you are and you should never be allowed to pick a pet again.
2. Returning a rescue animal to a shelter for behavioral issues is a “Death Sentence”  If the pet is sick and you say: “Naw I’d prefer a healthy one like we agreed on” then the chances are, the shelter will give the pet a chance……..”Maybe”.                       

So we both knew that taking Simba back to the S.P.C.A. was surely our option, but we knew they would put him down.  So we chose to live with our little problem child.

He wasn’t too bad until he started urinating in places other than the Cat box.  (Yes the litter box was clean)  He just has an issue of pissing in my office on anything that looks like newspaper on the floor.  His favorite urinal is my Nike Bag.  When I see I’ve left my office door open my heart immediately starts to beat faster.  When I smell that disgusting cat urine oder, I go into a state of “consternation”.  Blood shoots out of my eyes and I can see myself stepping on this little sh!t head until he’s dead.  Then I think of how bad I would feel if I let my temper do something so emotionally destructive.  So I stop and talk to God.

He’s our/my penance.  My wife (Whom this cat loves) is always saying, here’s a shelter that promises to place him in a good home.  The trouble/truth is, a good home is going to take him back and complain about his “Idiosyncrasies”.  And “Simba (who is now 8 years old), will end up in Cat Hell and be the last one to know.

So every time he marks my office, it brings me closer to God.  Hopefully, it earns me merit badges on the other side.

PS. BTW, Does anybody want a cat?