Part 2 of the Octopussy Chronicles

Having decided to get a cat, I was left with the tough decision of deciding which cat to get. Had the decision been left to someone else, they may've selected some cute little kitty, but not me. First, I have serious reservations about a little kitty's ability not to urinate on my belongings. Have you ever tried to get urine out of velveteen? Not only that, but I think a cute little kitty could be bad for my self esteem. Imagine that, through the use of brash lies and grain alcohol, I got a girl to come over to my apartment. Right before she has walked inside my domicile, this woman may have resolved herself to the events ahead. She may be thinking, "I don't really understand why I'm over here and I've done much better in the past, but I'm already this far; let's just get this over with." She then enters my apartment and sees a cute little kitty. She looks from the cute little kitty to me, and back at the cute little kitty. Suddenly, I have gone from being vaguely acceptable to horrendous, because I cannot compete with the cuteness of my kitty. That is unacceptable; I will not sit idly by and watch as all interested female parties attempt to fornicate with my cat.

Thus, when I entered the Humane Society on Sunday, I knew that I wanted a fat, weird looking cat. Not only would such a cat be fun to look at, but it would probably have built up a lot of character after watching people recoil whenever it makes an appearance. That is good; anything that needs with me needs a lot of character. Luckily, when I arrived at Gato HQ, Danza had already read my mind, and informed me there was a fat, deaf cat right around the corner. Obese, deaf feline? Consider me intrigued. I took a look at the animal in question and realized that yes, he had character and some to spare. I could see many nights of he and I sitting at home, him eating, oblivious to the world around him, while I play my maracas as loudly as I wanted. In a word, I saw heaven. To be fair, I took a look around the rest of the cats, just to make sure he was indeed the best. Towards the end of my tour, I noticed a gray, portly cat missing an eye. She wasn't as fat, but she certainly did look odd. Maybe she didn't inspire flights of fancy like the deaf one, but she did fit the criteria. And so, I decided to take the fat, deaf cat and the slightly less fat, one eyed cat into the play area to kick the tires and determine a winner.

While I was waiting to get up close with the cats, I was leaning towards the deaf one; he just had too much character. If I decided to go crazy and start dressing my pets up in human clothes, he'd look very dashing in a tuxedo. My enthusiasm waned when I got to test drive him, though. Yes, he was very fat and very deaf, but his idea of impressing me was wandering around the room, trying not to fall asleep. You call that a floor show? That cat was in dire need of a course in showmanship, and I didn't have time to provide one. This was in direct contrast to the one-eyed cat who jumped all over the place and demonstrated that she was not afraid to start a little crap, if the situation warranted it. That's what I like to see in a future pet: a little moxie. Not only that, but I worried about the fat, deaf cat wandering around my room while I slept, and perhaps settling to rest on my face. Not being able to hear my screams, he'd suffocate me in a matter of moments. If I am to be killed by an animal, I want it to be in a blaze of glory, wrestling a radioactive puma or something similar. Factoring in safety and the sass factor, there was only choice: Octopussy.