Mr. Norton aka Mrs. Norton
My parents, thought at first it was a boy and then found out it was a girl. Tragic death by crawling up the inside of my dads car and he drove away. YIKES! Yea that fucking happened.
Blinder than shit and ran into walls. Her fur was nice and clumpy…felt gross to pet. Ewww.
Scrappy single mother, loved to give massages and died by the garage. My dad closed the garage and she didn’t make it under. RIP. Penny and Tiger’s mom.
Glady’s Daughter, so fucking mushy and had no muscle tone. Who doesn’t love a mushy girl?
Glady’s son, he was fucking weirdo. He licked and ate myself out. He was hairless by his crouch. So weird.
Street hooker cat that showed up at the door. Named after Dawson’s Creek show. She didn’t last long and died of Cancer. Fuck Cancer.
A gift, I gave my parents. I was driving home from college and got pulled over by the cops. Boo was meowing in the back. The cop kept looking around. I didn’t say a word. When I got home, my dad was fucking pisst when I walked in the door with a kitten and a speeding ticket. She was black cat…BOO!
A gift from my younger brother. He accidentally ran her over. Judy was just a teenager. God bless her 2 lives.
Another Street Hooker cat we adopted. She dislocated her back leg after falling. The leg was never fixed, because the Doctor would have to re-break it to set it. We decided to just let her leg dangle. It gave her character. Poor fucker.
Homeless cat…better known as Woody’s brother, who never came home one day. My nephew named the cats Woody and Jesse after “Toy Story”.
Homeless brother cat to Jesse, he ended up being an honorary member of a Country Club. He was a fucking beast and ran away from home a lot. He enjoyed the good life. Sadly, he never came home one day. Cheers Woody.
Named after a garnish in my mom’s favorite drink, Dirty Martini. She’s a fucking bitch, cunt, asshole, bitch cat. Sorry mom.
She drools every time you pet her. She’s my real sister, since I never had one. Sisters forever.
Lucky to fucking be alive. Million dollar feral cat, who is pissing all over the house. Lovely. This cat might’ve been a bad investment. He stares at you with his yellow eyes and then attacks you. He’s daddy’s prize.
Growing Up with Cats
My mom and dad are fucking cat lovers. They always have had one, two, three, or four cats at a time. Since I was little, I always remember multiple cats walking around the house.
Why do they love cats so much? Maybe the smell of fucking cat piss and yankee candles? That has to be it. My mom has hundreds of yankee candles burning at all times. Yankee candles for life. It’s shocking the house has not burned down yet. Her favorites scents are fresh bush….just kidding fresh cut roses and balsam/cedar. Me? I’m not sure if I love cats or not. They have always just been in my life. In 2005, I decided to buy a cat, Chris and I were dating. Now, I am currently raising Satan’s cat, Stella Artois. We were drinking Stella’s when we named her. Trashy or classy name? I thought I would love having Stella. Turns out, she is trashy and the meanest son of a bitch. She likes to piss and shit all over my house. Also, does not groom herself. Terrible decision to get a cat. She currently just took a big dump on the bathroom mat. Thanks Stella.
These lovable creatures can turn on you in a second and spray their juices all over your furniture, carpet, clothes, walls, curtains, etc…What else is scary? How long they can live. I’m talking 15-17 years and by a miracle 20 years. I just know my little Satan, Stella will live to be as old as the beer, fucking 100.
With all this cat talk, it reminded me of a story…
When I was younger, cats would come in and out my bedroom all the fucking time and spray “piss juice” on my stuff. Once they start, they don’t to stop. The smell gets them all jazzed up and excited…they cock their asses up and spray. Fine whatever. So, I usually have to close my door and light a yankee candle. One time, a cat pissed on my pom poms. That was sad day for me. I picked up my pom poms and shaked them like my life depended on it. Cheering loudly, “Give me a V, dot the I, Curl the C…with cat piss flying all over the air…VICTORY!!” The strands were sticky and yellow. Ugh poor little me…gross. That’s actually not the story.
Sorry…here’s the story.
I was a sophomore and sitting in study hall. Study Hall was in an auditorium and your desk was on the side of your chair, that you pulled up and out. You sat few seats away from other students and rows in between. We were mixed freshman-seniors. It just depended on your schedule, when study hall fit in it. Remember the supervisor during all this? The supervisor only loved seniors. I wouldn’t want this job, kids can be assholes. Sorry if you are a study Hall Supervisor, just not my kind of job. Kids trying to write and pass notes. The supervisor never allowed you to write notes. It was fucking homework time. If you had nothing to do, you just fucking stared straight ahead into outer space. You were not even allowed to sleep. She walked around and would bang hard on the desk and tell you to “WAKE UP”. DAMN.
I kept my face down and worked on my homework. I never wanted to piss off the supervisor. One day, working on my homework…I suddenly I got a whiff of cat piss. What the fuck is that? Where the fuck is that smell coming from? Is Gladys, Penny, and Tiger in my back pack? Tiger was a fucking “pisser” and ate himself out constantly. Damit. He was hairless by his crouch and a very tense cat. Every time I picked him up, he had anxiety and want to lick his crouch some more. Penny was great and mushy. You picked her up and she had no muscle tone, literally a sack of shit would plop on your shoulder. She loved to lick your hand. Funny how opposite these sibling cats were. Their bitch mom, Gladys would fucking hiss at them everyday. Shit, I kinda of remind myself of Gladys. I liked Gladys. She kept to herself and gave out cat massages.
Anyways, I start inspecting my back pack. Picking it up and smelling it in study hall. Trying not to look obvious. Hmmm not my back pack. I still smell it. I start looking at the auditorium chairs and other students. Maybe Gladys snuck in and pissed on the chairs. The chairs had ugly yellow fabric that resembled cat piss. Trying to smell the chairs without anyone looking. Nope not the chairs. They do smell like bad B. O. and musty shit.
Wow, is it me? It can’t be me. I started smelling my sweater and bent over to get a whiff of my pants. OMG a cat peed on my pants! I literally sat there looking into space, stunned. No, it can’t be on my pants. I took another smell. It’s cat piss on my FUCKING pants. There’s definitely cat piss on my pants. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? These pants were nice khakis from JCrew. How could a cat pee on them? I must have have left them on the floor and put them back on. Or maybe a cat cocked it’s ass into my closet while the pants were hanging? I couldn’t recall where my pants were this morning. FUCK. ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW? I looked around to see if people were staring at my odd behavior.
The bell rang and I got up and tried not to look suspicious. Walking to my class, nervously smiling at people with cat piss pants. Stupid cats.
I sit down in class and tried not to act like anything is wrong. Friends and classmates are saying hi to me as they sit down. One friend even hovered over my desk to talk. Would you fucking leave already! I desperately wanted them to leave. If anyone knew I was wearing cat piss pants, I would never hear the end of it. I sat there and squirmed in my desk till the bell rang. Lucky for me, I had a car at school and ditched out of my lunch to run home and change.
I walk in the door. My mom was decorating in the kitchen. Shocked I was not at school.
Mom: “Christine, what are you doing here?”
Me: “A cat pissed on my pants!”
Mom: “What? Which cat?”
Me: “I don’t know, we have 3 cats! You take a guess!” So mad, that we have to have so many fucking cats at one time. Why can’t my parents just have one? We practically run a cat shelter.
Changing quickly and smelling everything I try on. Spraying perfume all over myself. I might as well blow up my closet. I got back to school, just in time for my next class. A friend saw me in the hallway.
Friend: “Did you change?”
Me: “No.” I was super short with her and my face was beet red.
Friend: “Oh, because I could’ve sworn I saw you in something else today.”
Friend: “Nope.” Just by looking at me, you could tell I was paranoid. Okay, not to be mean, but good bye friend…
I walked away and pretended I had this outfit on all day with a beet red face. Cat piss will forever be in my life.