Yes these cats are going to kill me


This is Magellan, Gelly for short, and he is plotting my death. This is the creature that is plotting my demise. He looks innocent enough… he even acts like he likes me. I know, however, the truth… this cat is luring me in with his cuteness and then he is going to strike with overly sharp claws. This perch is where I imagine he will launch in ninja-like skills.

First, I am not a cat person… I have never owned cats before… I have always owned dogs. Dogs are simple in their demeanor… right there on their doggy faces you see and understand. With cats, I am convinced that you are completely unable to discern their thoughts or comprehend their actions. I had cat-sat in the past… friends (gay dudes) needed their cats fed, watered, and sprinkled with attention. I have obligated in the past… I may not be a cat person… but I do love animals and understand the importance they represent in our lives. Just like how I would water, feed, and somewhat pay attention to your children, thus is what I would do for your animals. Hell, I will even come over and feed your pet snake… but I would expect a large bottle of bourbon for that… altruism goes only so far.

I guess I am a cat person now. I adopted two cats from a friend who found his living situation change. Like your kids, I will open my home… as long as they shit where they are supposed to (and no, I don’t mean their pants) and can entertain themselves. I took in Gelly and his sister Botchka (Russian for grandmother) in a moment of kindness. I envisioned two homeless cats in ragged coats panhandling in Dupont Circle… I couldn’t say no… sucker is my name.

 Botchka, unlike her brother, is a grey tabby and couldn’t give two shits about me. Botchka prefers to remain undetected when I am home… nestled up under my bed and slinks out only when she thinks I am absent or she is too hungry to avoid creeping out and getting her Friskies on. I know she exists because last night at 3 am she was doing battle with a shoe string I had drapped across their cat condo tower… loudly she attacked that string… so loudly that it awoke me and I stumbled down to catch her frozen in mid-attack… Botchka stared at me and I stared at Botchka. My getting up silenced her… if only all my irritants would be so easy. Get up… look at it… it becomes silent.

One would think that Botchka is the real killer in the house… the one that can’t be trusted. Her silent and sneaky existence seems very assassin like, yet I feel no fear of Botchka. This shy and skittish grey tabby would easily be vanquished by my rising from my perch. Gelly is the one who will do me in. This cat… this truly sneaky fucker… is the one I fear. He has ingratiated himself to me and my world. Unlike a lot of cats and their nocturnal habits, Gelly has adjusted his schedule to mine. He rises with me, he follows me around, sees me out the door when I go to work, and then sits happily by the door when I walk in. He has gone so far as to climb onto my bed and scratched for admittance under the covers… this cat is good. He has fallen asleep against my leg under the blankets… and then when he gets too warm… he has moved out from under the covers to sleep on top of them by my leg. Yes this cat with his sweetness and beautiful feline color has made me lower my guard.

This is the shit that I have to deal with day-in and day-out. Predatory pets are lurking in my home conniving methods to my destruction. I seem to be powerless to their ways and assume that everything is fine… I have allowed myself to believe that Gelly actually likes me and sees me as something more than a human that feeds, waters, and de-shits his litter box. The US intelligence community could take lessons from this cat… I have become disarmed and desensitized to my survival.

When people speak of their 1st world problems… Starbucks out of their favorite flavored grande coffee… traffic in their suburban neighborhoods… fighting siblings… all of these things are small and unimportant. What is important is my living to a ripe old age without having to remove an assassin’s claws from my neck. Seriously, these cats are planning murder. Please have the local news media come to this blog after I am found murdered in my own home… I have identified my killers. Oh… please remind me to stop at CVS and get some cat litter and another bag of Friskies… my cat overlords/executioners need it.


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