How’s about another Friday Confession? I’m feeling particularly forthcoming today. That’s right forthcoming.
As such, I’m willing to share with you something so dark and sinister that I promised myself I wouldn’t reveal it, ever. I’m sure to lose readers over it. It will offend someone out there no doubt.
I’ve alluded to it before I know, but always in a very sly way so as you dear readers could not really tell if I was being serious or not. Because really I’m rarely serious. Of course you are right not to take me seriously.
But now listen here. I am being totally SERIOUS when I tell you that I DETEST CATS. Kittens to be specific. I’ll wait while a few of you now close out of your browser. Okay. Well there’s still a few of you left. Thank you for letting me explain myself. Mature cats I can handle as long as they don’t dart in front of me or give me smug looks. But when does a kitten become a cat? I don't know. I've always gone by the simple rule of when they are big enough to protect me from a skunk. Kittens are wusses.
I know. I know. Kittens are adorable. So are most miniature cuddly things. That doesn’t mean I have to like them. Baby trolls are probably cute too, and then they bite your face off. This is the reality of the world we live in.
There is a deep rooted reason for my dislike though. I haven’t just randomly decided kittens are evil. No. I learned this from being methodically worn down to the point of horror.
Growing up, I had a friend who I spent as much time with as possible. She was also a redhead. It was like two Anne Shirley’s unleashed upon the earth. It was a dangerous pairing. Dramatic, impulsive, obnoxious. That was us. Many a night I slept over at her house. And we did very worthwhile things. Like drop tampons in a sink full of water, watching with pure amazement and a little bit of disgust as they expanded. Then we promised each other that when we finally got our periods and became real women, the other would be the first to know. Pinky swear.
Ah, but this is neither here nor there. What does this have to do with kittens? Well, I’ll tell you. Although I enjoyed spending the night at my friend’s, there was one problem. Her family had cats and kittens galore. Felines, felines everywhere. Outside. In the house. I didn’t grow up with any pets so any animal was a little off putting. But so what? Doesn’t seem like a big deal. They were just cats after all. But at night, when we were sleeping on the floor, those cursed kittens came after me. Pawing me, jumping over me, meowing at me! Meowing!
I spent most of the night protecting my head from being used as a scratching post. I’d wrap a blanket around my face and leave only enough of an opening to breath. Probably something similar to this only with eight year old facial features.
Now that I think about it, I’m sensing this may have also played into my claustrophobic tendencies. See! I can trace back so many of my problems to those wretched kittens.
Fast forward a few years. I am now a teenager. My family somehow adopts a stray cat who has kittens not too long after. Oh yes. Those kittens were adorable. I already admitted that they can be adorable! What else do you want from me? So I tried to put my dislike of the beastly animal behind me. A fresh new start, possibly with cats on the horizon.
My sisters and I named the kittens. My favorite was a warm golden colored one which we fittingly named Butterscotch. It was very nice of me I think to name a kitten after something so perfect, seeing as how I could have also named him after something else cream colored, like Pus or Toe Jam. But I didn’t. I tried to be a better person people. And I thought I detected a sense of pride beaming from the kitten every time I called him by his name. Butterscotch.
Well, I must have been wrong. Because instead of a nice cuddle, all that dang kitten gave me in return was his name scratched into my arm. Etched from his claws of malice.
Never again I told myself. Never again will a kitten receive love or endearing names from me. Never.
I’ve kept my promise. I’m nothing if not dedicated and hard-hearted.
Have a nice weekend. Please remember to spay and neuter . . . your pets.