Did I just refer to a Meat Loaf song? The end of civilization as we know it is near..
Off to the animal shelters I went this week to find me a new kitty, because Devo isn't around anymore to make me stand while I eat my dinner in lieu of sitting and having him dodge at it and piss me off (although I still miss the little guy like crazy, I must say!)
"New" kitty is not really the right way to say it now that I think about it, because all of the ones I've been looking at are used. That is all you find at animal shelters - used pets. Gently used, as many consignment shops like to say. "Cat-Go-Round - we sell recycled cats!"
I took that big first step and walked into an Animal Humane Society the other day for the first time since before the turn of the century. After mining through a vast sea of bad candidates I fell for a feisty little monkey named "George". George was really cool and I felt a little bad for him because it looked as if whomever the vet was that performed his de-balling surgery might have forgotten his corrective lenses at home that day. George trotted around with that tail of his pointed straight up exposing his deformity for all to see... now I don't know about you, but I ain't got no blind spot for cat butts, much less a Frankenstein-looking alteration beneath them. George was a darling little feller though, and I was minutes away from filling out an adoption form when the fire alarm went off. Everyone had to evacuate the premises and I figured heck, I should really take a day to think about this, so home I went.
The next day I visited a few more before ending up at the Animal Ark (where Devo was from) where I met The Cat. I'll call him Frank because his lame shelter-assigned name escapes me at this moment. Although Frank was de-balled, he didn't have much of a show going on back there like George did. I filled out the papers and alls they needed was the landlord's verbal consent. The landlord granted verbal consent so long as the cat was fixed and declawed. Turns out Frank still has his meathooks on his front end driver and passenger side as well as the back end, so no dice on him either. Why? Declawing is a rather inhumane thing to do to a cat and it's an Animal Ark Commandment that any cats leaving the Ark with claws need to keep 'em. Cheers to them for that because I agree. Negatory cheers for landlord because of the declawing request.
So I went back to where I found George thinking I'd grab him like I should have in the first place. George had found a home in the 24 hours since I'd been there last. CRIPES!
This evening we stopped at Feline Rescue and a different Humane Society, but nothing really jumped out at me (other than about 75 more cats which just didn't make the cut and a former co-worker of mine). I calmed my nerves with some chocolate and an A&W root beer on the way home not too incredibly bummed out, knowing that I'll bump into the right one eventually.
But I just want a cat, ladies and gentlemen. Out of the literally hundred-plus felines I've peeked at the past few days, I've connected with two of them and neither one is obtainable to me for aforementioned circumstances.
With that in mind, I have learned an important lesson when filling out cat adoption forms as far as telling them whether you rent or own your home: LIE.
Back to the shelters I go over the next few days. I'm sure if I have any luck you'll hear about it whether you like it or not. If you don't want to read blog entries about cats, go get your own damn blog and don't write about cats in it. Write about tennis or magazines or something... it's a free country!
If I open with a Meat Loaf reference, I certainly have to close with one: I'm outta here like a Bat Out Of Hell Part II.
