A Cat Story

I want to preface this story by saying that I loved my family's cat whole-heartedly, and I was completely sincere in telling this story to the husbo. Because his family has never had a single pet ever, he didn't treat this with the sensitivity it deserved. He is not evil, he just doesn't get it.

Last night, after we turned off the TV, we heard a terrible cat sound from outside. We have quite a few strays that hang around our block that we think the neighbors kind of take care of. Anyway, the sound reminded me of something that happened years ago, so I told him the story.

I explained that I hated that sound, because it made me feel extremely guilty. Here is what happened:

We had a wonderful cat named Daphne. She was owned by a bandmate of my brother who had many animals and just had a baby, so they needed to down-size. Why they would ever get rid of Love-puss, which is what they called her, I have no idea. Well, she was kind of a bitch. When she arrived at our house, she freaked out on our dog, Chloe, who was still sad over the loss of our other cat, Bogey. The two of them used to lay in the sunny spot in the family room and nuzzle and lick each other. So, sweet little Chloe was so excited to have a new friend, but Daphne swiped at Chloe's face, hissed, and hid under an end table for the first few days. They were able to co-exist peacefully, but Chloe always had this little hopeful look on her face, like "Let's be friends today?" Let's just say that when Chloe passed away, Daphne immediately took up residency on the mat that Chloe used to always lay on by the front door, and she actually sauntered around the house. Bitchiness aside (she was a cat, afterall), she was very soft and would occasionally let you love her.

One early evening, I was taking a nap in my bedroom at my mom's house and I heard the sound of cats fighting. All of our cats were inside/outside cats, but ours usually wouldn't be let out during the evening, so I just assumed is was the legendary stray we called "Blacky." I put my head back down and went to sleep.

The next day, when I saw Daphne, she had been hurt! No doubt by Blacky, that punk. She was like a different cat for a week. I know this sounds silly, but I think Blacky raped her, and I feel horrible that I didn't get out of bed and investigate. I could have saved her.

For some reason, this made the husbo laugh. So, I understand cat rapes aren't talked about that often, so yes, it's weird. I was sad thinking about it, so I came back at him with, "It's not funny. It was a cat-tastrophe."

Then, because we're both horrible people, we both laughed, which made me feel even more guilty. I'm sorry Daphne, but just remember the one time we laid together on the steps and you let me pet and love you for like 10 solid minutes, and the you tried to eat my face? I thought so.