Agh, in light of Jessica Simpson's little doggie being eaten by coyotes, The Gosselins giving back their dogs (apparently, this is temporarary people!) and the fact that I actually ENJOY singing the theme song from "The Wonder Pets", I have been thinking about my own little animal nugget...my cat, KitKat. One word, no hyphen. Just KitKat.
Poor little KitKat came to us as a rescued kitten off my husband's grandparents farm. He thought it was a cute litter of kittens, and the little yellow furball was his favorite. So he decided to save him from his fate of being sucked into a John Deere engine (which is what happens to most of the farm kittens...that or the VW Rabbit.) and bring him home for me. It was the first time in my life, I didn't have any pets, and I had always had a cat. And we weren't allowed to have pets wheer we lived, but we were bad asses so we did it anyway.
Grandpa told us KitKat was a girl. So I proceeded to go to the store and bought a pink collar, pink bowls, and a pink litter box. We later found out it was a boy; I'm pretty sure the day I took him to get fixed. Anyway, I spoiled the heck out of this cat. Gave it bathes, treats, brushed it, took it for check-ups at the vet.
And then the baby came.
My son was born and poor KitKat didn't know what him. He'd never seen the toe end of a shoe jabbing his ribs before...It wasn't that bad at first, but as time went on, KitKat got less and less attention, which leads us to today, where the poor cat reminds me to feed him by biting my calves.
Yesterday, kitty was in a rare mood where he was truly pissed about the cards he'd been dealt, and I could tell in his eyes he'd rather have taken the engine. My son will run up and kick him for no reason, he gets his tail pulled, pushed off furniture, stepped on...and I put the final nail in his little kitty coffin when I looked at him and said "Poor KitKat. Wait till there's 2 of them." And his eyes narrowed and he started growling at me. I tried to pet him, and he was sloooowly turning his head, which I knew meant to get my back-stabbing hand away before he ate it for dinner.
Oh yeah, I should go feed him...
*disclaimer: for PETA or the likeness: my cat is taken care of thank you, very much. Is it extravagant? No. But no one's life is with a toddler boy running around. So back off. He's old & grumpy. If I was him, and weighed 20 lbs and the only thing anyone ever said when they saw me was "What a big cat!" I'd be pissed too...as the toddler tries to pull my whiskers out...So I don't want to hear it.