I am a bad cat owner. I’m as bad a cat owner as I am a great dog owner. The cats started to mark the house. I need to show the house to potential buyers/renters. We are dog people. I can give you all the justifications I gave myself over the last 6 months but I won’t. Today I surrendered the cats to the SPCA.
Don’t get your knickers in a twist. That’s what they call it. They are only a kill shelter based on medical and behavioral needs. In fact, a little girl was having her cat put to sleep. I’m pretty sure Gaige just won the lottery since he looked exactly like her cat, much in the same way our boy Tucker struck the jackpot when he looked at me with those puppy eyes.
So, I’m posting even though I’m showing our house in exactly 2 hours because I can’t keep this story to myself. I fill out the paperwork. I’m feeling pretty down on myself for being such a horrible pet owner. Then this old guy walks in with a little crate. Here is the conversation. I couldn’t make this up.
“I brought you 2 cats!” says the crotchety old man.
“Okay sir. I’ll need you to fill out some paperwork.”
“Good. I’m bringing you 4 more this afternoon.”
“I could only get 2 in this box. Six cats don’t fit.”
“Why are you surrendering 6 cats?”
“I got too many.”
I’ll just leave it right there. I don’t got too many any more.