I grew up in a cat shooting household. Got married and my wife brings this big blazing orange cat home one day. Said he showed up at Memaw’s so she brought it home. I was making plans to either shoot it or dump it off. Second day, I feel in love with that evil, selfish bastard. He was my buddy. Only I petted him. Anyone else could kiss off as far as he was concerned. Got hit by a car. That one hurt bad. Check the mail for the longest time and see the damn greasy spot. I didn’t want another cat for about a year and a half. Then one day my wife found me in the cat room at a shelter. I was seeing which orange cat would tolerate being held like a baby. He’s bad too. So bad he lives outside. We are on 35 acres. But we seem to lose a cat or two every year. Out of five when we moved, ole Marvin is the only original left. Every time I see him, I always wonder if I’ll see him again. He goes everywhere. Deep into the woods. Fields. Acts like there ain’t no hawks, owls, bobcats, fox, coyote around.
Cats are buttholes. But they are lovely pets.
