I’m not sure how this was brought up, but my secretary mentioned that she had recently adopted a cat and that I am welcome to have it, to be honest, I’d rather have herpes, I didn’t tell her that, but at least herpes leaves every once in a while and it doesn’t climb on your counter after it has put it’s paws in a sandbox full of shit and piss.   That being said I have had way more exposure to cats than any one cat hater should ever have to face in their lifetime and that got me to thinking about what a terrific blog topic my lifetime of misadventures with cats and of course kittens would be.

I grew up in Byron Center and the home where I lived had three barns as well as another out building.  Pretty much impossible to not have cats and kittens hanging around when you have barns, it would be like having a rest stop with no gay sex.  So, when I was in high school I had a Chevrolet Caprice Classic, it was baby blue and I bought it from my great grandma Jansma with 32,000 miles on it.  This thing was plush, and it had rear wheel drive which meant any time there was even a dusting of snow my life, as well as the life of anyone who happened to occupy the road when I was driving, was in jeopardy.  My car was parked outdoors and in the winter time kittens would climb up in to my engine block attracted to the heat like a fat kid to cake and when I would start my car up in the morning I would routinely hear a thud.  The first time it caught me off guard to find a partially decapitated kitten lying under my car, (kittens are admittedly cute, but mangled kittens really aren’t all that cute) but by the third or fourth time I got use to it.  What really sucked was at this point in the year the ground was frozen so there was no way these kittens were getting a burial, not that they deserved one.

This proves cats are really stupid.  You would think that they would have eventually figured out they needed to get the hell out of the engine block once it cooled down.  “Hey, where’s Rufus?  last time I saw him he said something about climbing in the engine block to get warm, haven’t seen him since.”  Another encounter I had with what was an actual full grown cat was when I ran upon a calico who seemed to either have cancer or the feline version of HIV, the thing could barely move and all it’s fur was falling off.  I decided it was time to put the thing out of its misery but unfortunately or maybe fortunately for the cat, I’m not that good of a shot.  When I shot at it the thing moved like an olympic sprinter, I was only trying to put it out of it’s misery but self preservation must have been it’s primary instinct at that point.

Even moving off the “farm” I grew up on in Byron Center didn’t end my exposure to cats.  I spent a great deal of my life as a bachelor and dated a number of women.  A large percentage of these women had a cat, I believe the latin translation for cat comes out to “deal breaker” I like pussy just as much as the next guy, but not when it has four legs and sheds on the couch.  Fast forward to June 17, 2006, I’m invited to a barbecue at another attorney’s home who I have a case with.  The day of the barbecue I consider backing out because I don’t like attorneys and the barbecue is likely going to be filled with them.  However, I decide at the last minute to give it a go, at the time I’m single, which was a fairly common status for me all the way until this specific date.  As I approach the house where the barbecue is being held a stunning blonde gets out of her car.  In my mind I am ecstatic that I didn’t bail on the party even if this hot blonde happens to be an attorney.  Fortunately, I am Dutch and am genetically predisposed to showing absolutely no emotion so she thinks I am playing it cool.  She ends up loosening me up with a number of shots of tequila and the rest is history, but it almost wasn’t.

I kept thinking to myself “attractive, attorney, likes tequila,  and she’s Dutch?”  There’s got to be a chink in the armor, there just has to be.  (I hadn’t met her family yet) Well, after our first date she ends up inviting me over to her house the next day or maybe a couple days later.  There’s a few concerns, for one, I had just worked out and needed to take a shower, when I got into the bathroom the tub looked like a body had decomposed in it, I almost asked her if she was adopted because no Dutch person I know, other than my brother, would allow such an unsightly tub.  Regardless, I was willing to overlook it because I was quite fastidious when it came to keeping a clean tub so if we ended up together that would be my responsibility (little did I know I would also be responsible for laundering all bedding as well, I have been tempted to see how long my wife would let it go, but I have never been able to sleep in soiled sheets long enough to find out and always ultimately end up washing the bedding way before she would ever have done anything about it). However, there was a significant problem, she had two cats, and one of them still had its claws.

The cats were named Richard and Lucy and they were a thorn in my side.  As time went on I was able to convince my wife that we needed to eventually eradicate our lives of the felines.   Richard was easy, he didn’t have claws and he was actually tolerable and one of her friends gladly took him.  However, Lucy, which I am certain was short for Lucifer, was pure evil, not only did she look like the cat from Pet Cemetery, she acted like it as well.  After Richard had been gone for a while I finally was able to convince the powers that be that it was time to give Lucifer the heave ho.   I put an ad on Craig’s List offering her to a home, not a good home, just a home, could have been a person who lived in a refrigerator box for all I cared, I just wanted that cat our of my life.  No takers on the Craig’s List ad, I figured we were stuck with her but I persevered and was able to convince her that we should take her to the animal shelter “Someone will adopt her and take her home I said in the voice I typically use on judges when I am trying to give them the most optimistic take on my clients.”

Finally judgment day came and it was time to transport Lucifer to the pound.  They do have card board boxes that you can use for cat carriers but my wife had tried one of those before and midway to the vet one of the cats escaped and was helping her co pilot her vehicle.  I knew I couldn’t take this chance because if Lucifer got out she would be going directly for my eyeballs in an attempt to inflict the most pain possible.  Fortunately my mother in law had a cat carrier and allowed me to utilize it, the only problem was that it predated me, it was likely manufactured between WWII and the Korean War.   Being Dutch I wasn’t going to go out and buy one for just one occasion so  I gave it the ole college try.  I put on sweat pants, a sweat shirt, and really thick gloves knowing I was in for the fight of my life.  After a lot of chasing with some hits and misses I cornered her in the kitchen, there was fur everywhere and she pissed all over the kitchen table, but I managed to corral her in the antique cat carrier.  There is no way I can do justice replicating the sounds that cat made, but the noises seemed like they were from the depths of hell.

As I exited the house and was hurrying towards the car the cat carrier imploded and Lucifer took off like a bat out of hell.  I was disheartened to say the least, but my desire to make my life cat free kept me on task and eventually I was able to bring her to the pound.  When I dropped her off I felt bad for about an hour and then I totally forgot about her.  They say cats have nine lives,  but we all know that’s bullshit, and to be honest, I’m glad they don’t.