2 legs good, 4 legs bad.

I tried, and failed as a cat person/animal lover.  We thought it would be a great idea to get a little creature to greet us and love us when we got home.  Like we don't greet and love each other enough...so after a week of craigslist searching, our new little addition was found.  A beautiful striped kitty by the name of Isabel, and I couldn't be more miserable.  I have figured that a cat is one of those things that sounds good in theory, but is just really a horrible idea all together.

Now I am not talking shit about those of you who love cats and can manage to live in peace with them, I am just not one of those people.  I knew it, deep down, but the thought of having a pet was so exciting, and with the building of our new little home, a pet just seemed like the next natural thing to happen.  The strangest girl brought the cat to our apartment and me and Sage were just plain giddy with excitement.  She removed the cat from the carrier, let it run and poke around in like the 3 places we didn't want it to, she left the cat with us and we did our happy dance.  Yes, we have a happy a dance and you would melt with envy at our joy if you saw it.  We wasted the happy dance because that cat didn't want shit to do with us.  

Talk about anti-climactic.  The cat ignored us for a few days, before it started pissing on Sage and Tyler's bed.  So, first thing a cat can do to be an awful pet.  Since they have the luxury of a door, they locked the cat out, so now Ground Zero for cat habitation is my bed.  Which brings me to the second thing a cat can do to be the most awful housemate ever, sheds clumps and gobs of hair ALL OVER MY NEW BED!!!!! I had only been in possession of my bed for a damn week before this fucking obnoxious creature took it over.  I am no monster, so I don't tell it to kick rocks, I let it sleep there at night, she nestles in between my legs.  For being the least excited about animals in general, this cat cant get enough of The Jackie.  I guess my animal magnetism is literal.  

Now, cats usually just kinda chill, do a lot of napping.  They are quiet, that's the whole point, but not this cat. Oh no.  By 7 am she is "meow purrrrr meow pouncing".  Even if you are reading this and barely know me, you know how I feel about mornings.  Litter box scratching, meowing and jingle ball batting, NOT OK.  She talks, she fucking talks, all day, every second.  Unless shes asleep, in a fur pile, on my damn blankets.  I may sound completely irrational, but I am allergic.  I wake up with runny eyes, and a clogged nose.  I wear black to work, where I sell food, so needless to say, cat hair. NOT OK.  I go through 5 lint roller sheets before I can even sit on my bed.  NOT OK. It took a few days of desperate texts to this strange cat lady who gave us the cat, but she finally got back to us and said she would take it back.  

Now I am filled with equal parts relief, remorse and guilt.  Since the cat is always on my bed, of course I bonded with it, its fucking cute, it likes me, and I have to be the asshole that firmly puts my foot down and says she has just got to go.  If she could stop her constant fur flinging, I could learn to the live with the other stuff.  But its just not gonna happen and the stress of waking up covered in creature fur is gonna drive me off the deep end.  I have a pretty high tolerance for a lot of things, animal hair ranks at the very bottom.  Even if I love the animal to pieces, just ask Mike.  His dog B was the greatest dog in the history of dogs, and I would sometimes have to bounce from his house because I couldn't even cope with the hair.  It's physiological, I am not an animal hating monster.  Who am I trying to convince? Either way, I still feel bad.  But whatever, I'll get over it, guilt goes away, allergies don't.