The Cat In The Lap

OK, I tried to write some stuff to post and it just wasn't funny. I do wanna post something, though, because I said so. So here I come, charging ahead into the unknown! The past week or so has been rough. One of the cats barfed and I had to clean it up. Also my wife's still dead.

My wife and I had this agreement about the cats. I would always clean the litter box and she would always do the food and water for them. When they barfed up a hairball, we took turns cleaning. We could usually tell which one had barfed by the contents. Her cat was a moron and would eat too fast and throw up un-chewed food. My cat was a idiot and would eat hair off the floor until he got hairballs. Ahh...memories.

Now I have to do the food and water, as well as all the hairballs/barf myself. It could be worse, I suppose. It could be kids I have to take care of by myself. And kids would understand me if I muttered "stupid fucking kids" when I'm cleaning up their messes. I'm so glad my cats can't understand all the terrible things I say to them. They're also an absolute blessing, bringing me affection when I'm in the pits of despair.

My wife's cat is especially affectionate sometimes. She let that cat climb all over her, even while she was trying to sleep. He has horrible manners. But he will also climb up my chest purring like a diesel engine to nuzzle my face. He'll even disregard the unpleasant wetness of my tears in exchange for some ear-scritches. My wife made him so loving. It kinda feels like her cat is a vessel for her love. Although not when he's barfing: that's him just being a stupid, fucking cat. And I love him. I highly recommend pets for grieving. If you don't have any, visit your local petting zoo or aquarium 'touch tank.' I assume you'll get the same feeling.