Amanda is not helping push the idea of getting a cat out of my head. A woman I work with is not helping either, she sent me possibly the cutest pictures of her two cats being sweet and loving on each other. I can has cheezburger does not help me either. I have always been more of a dog person, but I also appreciate cats.
When I was in higschool (a freshmen to be exact) there was a cat roaming the neighborhood who found her way to my house. Amanda and I, being the hoodlums that we were, were always outside trying to find something to do, me with crackers in hand (snackrite!). This cat came up to me, acting nicer than any cat I’d ever seen and Amanda thought for sure she was in heat… but it turns out she was just that nice. I fed her some of my crackers and we instantly became buds.
The only problem was that my grandparents both HATED cats, (my grandfather most likely just going along with my grandmother) so I had to keep my new friend a secret. After a few days, I decided to name her Cooter, not after the female genitalia but after the carnies on the Simpsons ah yes, I was such a Simpsons freak back then.
Anywho, I proceeded to let this cat in through my bedroom window every night. I would feed her and she would spend the night cuddled up with me in my bed. I ended up getting caught a handful of times, but none of them ever stopped me. My grandfather acted like he didn’t even care, which I’m sure he didn’t, but because the Bitch was still alive… Cooter disappeared one day.
I thought I saw her roaming through my yard a few times, but I doubt that was her. My grandfather claimed that she really belonged to someone, but if that was the case you think they would have noticed that their cat was never around, or that she was starving (until I came along). I think he knew what really happened, but was just trying to cover up for the fact that my grandmother most likely poisoned her.
Long live Cooter!
