My neighbors had a lot of cats. Like, eight or so. They were skittish,
almost feral little creatures who would roam from yard to yard, snoozing
and pooping along the way.
Jessica Burgess
Clearly Unedited
Then my neighbors moved away. And somehow, by accident or design, all
those cats were left behind to defecate freely in our flower beds.
"Animal control will come get them," I assured the guy who was worried
about our lawn becoming a huge feline public toilet.
"Great!" he said, then furrowed his brow. "Wait. What will animal
control do with them?"
"Er," I said, feeling like I was about to inform him that Santa Claus
was a known sex criminal.
My hesitation told him everything. His eyes got huge.
So I changed the subject. Let someone else call animal control.
That's why, when one of these small, pointy-eared monsters approached
me, I felt like I owed her something. Especially when she meowed in a
way that clearly said, "I'VE BEEN ABANDONED AND I'M FREAKING HUNGRY SO
FEED ME RIGHT NOW YOU STUPID COW."
I gave her some tuna.
After that, she wouldn't go away, this deformed cat with seven toes on
each of her paws. For some reason, this struck us as adorable instead of
freakish. We named her Inigo Montoya. And shopped for a stockpile of
Friskies.
The expense of accepting responsibility for a cat, even a
low-maintenance outdoor one, worried me. Not only would we need to get a
collar and tags, but we'd also have to take her to the vet, where she'd
be spayed and probably treated for various parasites.
But my boyfriend was delighted with the addition to our little family.
When I was feeding Monty, he came outside and asked, "How are my girls?"
"One of us has three ticks on her neck, is carting around some
extraneous reproductive organs, is missing a tooth and probably has
worms," I said.
"Oh no," he said. "Well, how is the cat?"
"She's OK," I said.
Pretty soon, we had yet another cat hanging around. I guess she smelled
the Friskies. This one was small and gray and really cute. And if you
petted her too enthusiastically, she'd get overexcited and bite you. I
identified.
Thus, Inigo Montoya was joined by Gray Cat. (We had run out of
creativity. If we have two kids, the second one will be named Pink Baby.)
I'm not taking any more cats in, but taking care of these two isn't bad,
I guess.
Anyway, our flowers have never been so well fertilized.
Jessica's a soft touch. E-mail her at jburgess@quickdfw.com and
she'll probably give you some Friskies.
