Pussy No More

Note to self: depressing poetry in blog post will not increase audience. But still, what’s a man to do when all cheer has left him? And fuck it, it’s my blog and it’s my depressing poetry and since none of you have paid your subscription fees, you’ll just have to put up with it.

cats.jpg
Figure 1: The fat one...............................and the stupid one

So, getting to the main topic of today’s double entendre: the cats are on the way out. Yes, after sharing my living space with my exes two cats for two years, I am finally rid of their hairy little arses.

It’s not that I hate the cats, it’s just that it was never my choice to have them. The little buggers puke on my carpet, leave their bloody hairs all over my pillows and race about like gremlins in the middle of the night, knocking things over. And I have to clean up their shit, fix their food…and all the rest of it.

On top of this I have friends with severe cat allergies who can never even step inside the door. Things will have to change.

I have been taking care of these animals since my ex moved out a few months ago, but now we’ve found a new home for the fat one, and the stupid one is off to my exes new flat. So as of next week, it will be peace and quiet, no cat hair tickling my nose as I sleep, and no unexpected moist gifts deposited in the bath.

May their lives be happy and full of wonder.

And mine too.

/ paddy

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14 thoughts on “Pussy No More

  1. It’s all right, man. Depression is depression and you just have to get through it. I’ll still be reading your posts.

    And I do love cats, but yours sound like jerks. Good riddance.

  2. Hey, tonight I passed two drunk irish boys. I said “Ooh, irish!” and my boy said “He’s so getting laid by just talking.”

    There you have it! From both genders.

  3. Congratulations. We took the same step when we were going to have our second child. I am happy to get rid of the hairy, pooping critters. Now I only have human crap to clean.

  4. My attitude to cats is similar. I like them but I don’t want to own them. My wife does, though, so we recently made a deal enabling her to get one.

    It’s her cat. She takes care of its poop and medical appointments and babysitting and feeding. My contributions to this work are strictly on a voluntary basis. I’ve made it clear that if she tires of the beast, then I see no reason to let it continue to live. Cats aren’t exactly an endangered species, and it makes no difference in the larger scheme of things whether an individual house pet lives or dies. I reserve that kind of care for humans.

    I still do all the vacuuming without grumbling, though, despite all the added hair.

  5. Cyber-hugs for a pissed-off Paddy … xxx

    Poetry is personal. It’s neither good nor bad. It’s your own expression of how you are feeling and people will either relate to it or they won’t. And sometimes, even if they can’t relate to it, they can still appreciate it or enjoy it.
    *
    I like cats. But husband hates them so no cats in our house. Just two poor neglected guinea pigs.

    At least you didn’t go through a long custody battle for the cats. I had a cousin who recently seperated from his partner and they fought, in the courts, for custody of their two dogs.

  6. charliebadaboom: Now I could out up with the piano cats…or ones that point out when I start to use too many adjectives.

    Alex: Actually the cats were OK, just not MY cats.

    Ullis: So I get laid just by talking? So why hasn’t that happened to me yet? No, hang on, it did a couple of times…

  7. Linda: At least the babies grow up and make themselves useful some day.

    Martin: Well said. Seriously, it’s a waste of time and effort even fixing the things up if they are very sick. There are a few more important things we should be wasting our time on. And, hey, you should have told me you were in the market – you could have gotten the grey cat for free!

    earthpal: Well I beg to differ – poetry CAN be good or bad, although it is also a resonance between states of mind. And I would rather put my foot in a food processor than go to court over a pair of fucking dogs. And there was 2 dogs, so why couldn’t they just toss a fucking coin? People sure are stupid…

  8. My attitude to children is similar. I like them but I don’t want to own them. My wife does, though, so we recently made a deal enabling her to get one.

    It’s her child. She takes care of its poop and medical appointments and babysitting and feeding. My contributions to this work are strictly on a voluntary basis. I’ve made it clear that if she tires of the beast, then I see no reason to let it continue to live. Children aren’t exactly an endangered species, and it makes no difference in the larger scheme of things whether an individua child lives or dies. I reserve that kind of care for cats.

    I still do all the vacuuming without grumbling, though, despite my complete lack of hair.

  9. OR Melling: I aim to be cheeky. My readers expect nothing less of me. And yes, the cats were nice, but so is Frank Black but I wouldn’t want him sleeping on my sofa every night.

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