Mr. Kitty [resurrected MySpace post]

Feb 24, 2007 (8:41 PM)

Mr. Kitty

Current mood:apathetic
Cats are annoying, dogs are loud and dirty, and the concept of domesticated animals is as abstract to me as continuous news coverage about the death of an overweight, unintelligent, money-hungry, over-dosed bimbo.
But sometimes I am nice to pets. Especially when asked for a favor by a nice person. Chad is always sincere, and has even helped me a few times when I was out of town and my family needed the key to my apartment. Plus, I’m about to get a $3,000 bonus because he took a job at my company after I referred him.
But for this I would give back the $3,000.
Every day is how often I have to trek all the way to the East Village. No matter what else I have planned, and no matter what time these plans begin or end. Nine o’clock pm Basketball game? No big deal, I just simply had to leave work early during the busiest week since I started; walk 15 minutes over to 2nd Ave. in 30 degree weather lugging 12 pounds of gym clothes and books; wait another 15 minutes for an uncomfortable MTA bus to show up–late; eat a crusty, cold pepperoni roll while sitting on the stone-hard bus seats listening to my iPod battery die–again; walk 20 minutes through the goth and disgust of post-college East Village heroin addicts.
And all of this even before having to deal with the filth and stench offered by a spoiled house pet. This was just the first day, and just one example of how out of the way this task became. And more proof that I should adamantly pry for full disclosure before accepting the responsibility of future favors involving pets.
Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Kitty is as nice as pets come, I’m sure. And he’s solely content being alone in the dark for 8 days without the ability to watch TV or play Wii on the monolithic 57″ flatscreen taking up 1/3 of his living space. All of this respectable, as far as pets go. And luckily the actual task of feeding Mr. Kitty only takes about 80 seconds. But the stenches. Ill. Multiple stenches. That mixture of raw tuna, manure, sewage acid, and whatever else Purina puts in canned cat food, is repulsive. No wonder it smells so bad coming out the other end.Flash forward: I have now fed Mr. Kitty five days in a row, and each day is worse and worse. Nights becoming later. Cab rides becoming longer and more expensive. Buses arriving more and more late. Planning around the feedings becoming more and more difficult. And most importantly, the stench of an unchanged litter box becoming more and more potent.
No, changing the litter box was NOT part of the deal. I was only tasked with changing water and re-filling cat food bowls. And the ungrateful thing hardly drinks the water, and won’t eat any of the dry food unless I mix it with the canned!

I wish I was lucky enough to provide so little to society, yet get so much in return.

Mr. Kitty is reminding me of the elaborate words spoken by a group of brilliant, modern-day poets:

“I don’t wanna go another day… but I must stick with you… I must stick with you.”

-Pussycat Dolls

*Editor’s Note: “reminded” is a lie, the author actually had to search for relevant Pussycat Doll lyrics to provide dramatic affect.
Mr. Kitty
The Mr. Kitty

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