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My cat Sysco

I can’t believe I didn’t think to tell you about my cat. He’s one of the best stories about when I was living down there. Okay, so the story starts off the way a lot of my stories do, with me drinking a bit more than prudent. It was a great, sunny day and me and some friends went to a local beach bar to kill some brain cells. It was early afternoon and it the place was pretty packed. They served a good seafood menu and a lot of tourists were about. So me and my friends are chatting and drinking and up comes this kid. He’s probably 11 or so. He asks us “Hey, do any of you guys want a kitten?” Cute right? Well at that point most of us were sharing an house and we had never discussed getting a pet. I think most of us assumed it was just a bad idea with that many people and with our general lack of responsibility.But everyone had a few drinks in them and most of them knew I came from a bit pet family. Honestly at times it was like growing up in a zoo. Cats and dogs everywhere.

Well everyone is feeling no pain, so they start trying to talk me into taking a kitten. I have no idea why they wanted me to, but I assume they thought I’d do all the work and they’d get to play with it. So after some cajoling, I ask the kid where the kittens are. He says “There right over there” and points to a bunch of Feral cats rummaging through the garbage. These are the hobos of the cat world. Living around the tourist traps feeding on trash and whatever they can catch. The area is overrun with them. Now I know that these cats are totally wild. They’re young and fast, and used to being chased. There’s no way in the world this kid is going to catch one. So, being a little drunk I look for the fastest, sleekest looking cat I can find. I spot a little black tom, maybe a month old. Nothing but wiry speed that one. I say to the kid, knowing I’m being oh so clever “If you can catch that black one, I’ll take it.” He agrees and goes running off. I turn to my friends with a big grin and say something like “See, I.” “Mister, here’s your cat.” Shit.

So I turn around and the kid is standing there with a Sysco box from the restaurant. My friends are all laughing hysterically at me. I take the box from the kid and me and a friend set it on a stool. We open the top of the box as if it might contain explosives, ever so slowly and peer down inside. What do I see? The cutest little hissing, spitting, angry ball of dirty fur, teeth and claws I’ve ever seen. Imagine a tribble from the very bowels of hell. This cat hates me and everything I stand for. Shit.

So we take him home. We’re all pretty good and drunk by this point, and the cab drivers all know us well enough that they let us bring a wild animal in the cab. I set the box down and go into my room. I tell everyone “Don’t let the cat out. I want to let him out in my room, and let him get used to me before we freak him out okay?” Sure, they all get it. I go in to prepare my room. I flip the bed up so he can’t hide under it. I close all the doors and windows so he can’t get out or hide, and then set up a genius little place where he can hide until he gets comfortable.

So then I go out to get the cat and put my plan into action. The box is open. “What did you do?” I look around the room and nobody is as ashamed as I know they should be. “Your cat’s in the couch.” …..”What?” “Your cat’s in the couch. We let him out and he ran into the couch. We can’t get him out.” Shit. So for the next few days the cat lived in the couch. It was a fold out, but we were afraid we’d kill him if we tried to open it. He’d come out when we weren’t there to eat and use the litter. Little bastard knew how to do that right off. And little by little we coaxed him out more and more when we were there. He eventually learned to trust me, but never anybody else. He’d only let other people touch him when he was in my lap, otherwise he was as good as wild. He once jumped from a second story balcony to get away from my roommate. And he never became fully house bound either. He would disappear for as long as a month sometimes, and show up fat and happy like he never left. I had him for years, and then one day he just didn’t come back. I never knew what became of him. And that’s the story of my psychotic cat.

Categories: Stories
  1. Margaret
    February 18, 2012 at 11:04 pm

    Love your stories, but for some reason this one is particularly endearing. Keep up the good work!

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