Day 79: Will Being a Cat Killer Give Me Street Cred?

I think I might be a cat killer. After being a cat owner to Jeremy and Sylvia for 15 and 13 years respectively, Jeremy kicked last month and today Sylvia is suddenly wheezing and croaking out noises like she is knocking on death’s door. Two cats in one month will really be too much for me to handle. Now if they were parrots and turtles, which for some reason I have a bloodthirst to shoot, it would be a different and much more fun story, but these are my babies and apparently I am a killer without realizing it. It’s cool to have a superpower, but I always thought I’d be more the hero type a la Storm in the X-Men comics, not a super villain.

So here’s the deal, I went away for a handful of days and when I got home, the remaining cat that I have not yet killed was slow to greet me. When she did emerge she seemed noticeably different. She is a big shredder, but tonight she had handful after handful of fur coming off her akin to the post affects of a chemo patient only her fur never thinned, just an incessant shedding. Her purring noises were deep and guttural and kind of freaked me out, and her meow sounded a lot like that creepy little kid who croaked out “red rum” in the original “The Shining.” Also, she doesn’t appear to have eaten much in the days I’ve been gone, which is not her style. This cat loves to eat and I’d like her to restart if for no other reason than for her nickname of “Fat Girl” to make sense.

So what does it all mean? Am I a cat killer? I have killed every single houseplant I’ve ever had including a few cacti and some bamboo. Maybe I’m transcending vegetation murder and morphing into a mammalian murderer? It is disconcerting to have a pet sick. It is hard to know if they are sick enough to see the vet or if it is something a homeopathic remedy can cure. Jeremy was truly ill and I knew it and took him to the vet twice in three weeks, it just wasn’t enough. For the Fat Girl, though, I am just unsure. Besides the Tribble-like furballs she is shedding at an alarming rate and the vocal issues, she appears to be normal. If irritatingly insistent and loud are normal feline traits.

I think my inability to keep plants or pets alive is testament to the wisdom of my current infertile state, but then again children can tell you they are hungry or hurt, so maybe I’d be better at that. Hmmm . . . maybe my next pet will be a child to see if I’m ready for the big step of a dog. They can’t be that much more difficult to take care of and since children can talk and tell you what they perceive their needs to be that should make them easier than dogs in a way . . . is that not right? For now, I guess I’ll take Sylvie to the vet tomorrow to make sure it’s just a case of cat laryngitis and not feline death syndrome or something. I don’t even take myself to the doctor, animals are kind of demanding for creatures that drink out of toilets and poop in a box.