I just realized that it has been about a
year since Ex-Boyfriend and I became citizens of Splitsville. [If my lame joke escapes you, what I am
trying to say, is that it has been about a year since we ended our
relationship, called it quits, broke-up, etc.]
This past year, a lot has changed in my
life and I can happily say, that most of the change has been overwhelming
good. What has not changed, is
Kitten.
He is my rock, my deranged, violent rock.
To his credit, he has dealt with a lot of
changes as well. After the
break-up, I made a few lifestyle changes; the main one being that instead of
sitting at home taking pictures of and blogging about my cat, I went out. I made a big effort to reconnect with
old friends and to forge new friendships as well. This meant a lot of long days alone for Kitten.
Then came even bigger changes. I met a… person? Man-friend? Male-of-Interest?
Let’s call him “Furby”.
This meant someone new in the
apartment. At first I thought
Kitten would be unimpressed, especially because the first time Furby met
Kitten, he kicked him. NOT HARD, and to be fair, it was because Kitten had
started to do his weird humping thing that Elena has already described in such
glorious detail for you.
On top of that, Furby is allergic to cats,
meaning that sometimes Kitten would have to wait in the washroom until Furby was
gone. Despite this, Kitten really
liked Furby. Well, he liked Furby
as much as Kitten is capable of liking anything, which means he sniffed his
shoes and stared at him in a really uncomfortable manner.
Furby, however, never grew to like Kitten…
or so he said. But one time I
caught Furby on his hands and knees trying to role a ball on a string under the
bed for Kitten. Kitten was
obviously terrified by this gesture, as he naturally assumed the 1.5 inch ball
was coming to murder him.
One time, I was in the kitchen and Furby
was in the washroom. I heard the
shower go on for several seconds and then shut-off. By this point in our more-than-friendship, I was well aware of Furby’s penchant for, how can I put this? Shit disturbing. So I immediately yelled,
“did you just run the shower when Kitten was in the bathtub?!”
“No,” came the response from the washroom.
But I didn’t trust Furby, so I went looking
for Kitten. And I found him. Sitting under the table. Dripping wet.
I frantically yelled at Furby, while
rushing to grab a towel and blow-dryer, “Don’t ever get them wet!!!”
 |
| (Source) |
Okay, so not quite like that. But STILL bad.
Furby's response: "But he was just sitting in there. He wanted it."
Luckily, Kitten wasn’t that wet and
together we were able to dry him.
Aside from being troublemakers out to make
my life more difficult, Furby and Kitten have one other glaring trait in
common: FUR.
Now I’m not saying that Furby is Yeti, but…
 |
| (Source) |
The amount of sweeping needing to be done in
my apartment essentially doubled.
Sometimes, I would find hybrid hairballs that had taken on a life of
their own. Yes, it was scary.
So, all of this is to say, that though
Kitten clearly wants me dead (made obvious by way of his murderous actions –
I’ll get to this in more detail later), he has been doing quite well with the
changes that I have been subjecting him to.
Or, as well as Kitten can do.
