Although because of my age, you can't tell, I'm a chocolate point, not a blue point or orange-ass Abyssinian like those turned-nosed bitches from the east side insist on being ruled by. Being generic isn't always bad. At least the beasts don't expect a lot if you are average. If one can fake normal you can coast through the teen years like a boss even though you are missing your gonads and only means of self-defense.
I digress. This lame bipedal monkey fish signed some shit and put a box of gravel next to the toilet and tried to tell me what to do. I tried to ignore him for six weeks. He didn't realize I was ignoring him until I copped a squat on his pillow. Nothing like a straight-up piss to have your nostrils tell you where you stand in the world. I wasn't being a dick, even though they let me keep that part.
He finally started talking to me instead of pointing and shouting like a peacock with ADHD. It was interesting how his mouth could move for hours on end yet, nothing of substance seemed to birth itself. He's not a dummy. He just lacked something, something I was confident I could give him.
We have a mandate, our kind. Living creatures come into this world lacking a basic empathy for other living things. Even if you are born a jellyfish, you assume it is your right to absorb as many sardines as your metabolism will allow. Have you ever tried to hold a conversation with a jellyfish or anemone? BORING! They float through their world, consuming indiscriminately, dare I say like a Westerner? Again I digress.
I hope you are still with me. Anyway, this dude, yes I said dude, fed and watered me. He never kicked my tail and told me to play outside. Thank you, whatever your name was. The only time I went outside, some rough character, missing a piece of an ear, tried to recruit me for some kind of fertility ritual. When I saw the fetish chicks that were hanging around this critter, I had one thought, No Thanks!
Which brings me to the current conflict. Not long after my supposed, 'legal adoption' the Prince, I shall call him, met Someone. I'm sorry if this seems snarky. I'm a mellow fellow, with no snark at all. This bipedal human vacuum cleaner sucked up whatever we had.
I'm not sure you can imagine this, He and it made two more of themselves. They are such narcissistic megalomaniacs, they thought the world wanted more of them. I befriended the oldest creature spawn. He loved me so much that he decided to pollute his life with feline DNA once he had a studio apartment of his own. Victory!
I'm going sideways with this narrative again. Why would a well-intentioned adult adopt a wild prairie king snake? I had to chase the damn thing out an open window when it escaped its enclosure. He never suspected that I ran the serpent off, yet if I hadn't I would have had to eat the damn thing! For the life of me, I have trouble with hotdogs and brats at picnics, if the thing was still moving. ARGH!
So, these things the other birthed kept growing. Dear god, the way they fed the things. I tried to stay out of the way. Bipedal humanoids grow like weeds in ditches. I couldn't imagine a Bengal Tiger putting on weight the way that human children do. Yet it is reciprocal, they would eat humans as well. Again, I digress.
Honestly, I'm trying to be honest here, I tried to mind my business and age with some grace. One of the 'children' as they were called took a shine to me and often hugged me like a plastic animal. I couldn't bring myself to bite him as I did the rude Grandpa that mistook me for a dog. Children need respect like animals. If you don't understand what we are just fucking IGNORE US!
It seems a bit premature to bring up old age, but damn those kids made me seem old. I squealed when they hoisted me from the floor. I never would bite a child though. Adults knew better, I would nail a grown person in a second.
The wasting came on gradually. He hadn't taken me to the veterinarian in years, yet I lost weight and started barfing perfectly good kibble onto the concrete. We both knew something was wrong with me. The nice lady mentioned thyroid disease at the Vet and prescribed me a single pill.
Dad sticking a finger down your throat isn't exactly a happily ever after, yet it took away the nausea. No one besides him had the stones to do it for me. Felines aren't born with the ability to swallow pills and not many male humans have the compassion to administer medicine to a dependent animal. This is the point when I realized over the last eighteen years that the man loved me. He cared.
It was the Christmas Eve of our final year in the country cottage when something hit me. It was midnight and I heard Dad and Mom laying out the toys, so the boys could come running in that Christmas morning and tear into their presents with abandon. I couldn't stop it. I had a stroke. The whole left side of my body went numb It was unbearable. I flopped and kicked, unable to control my body, I howled for hours on the floor of the basement, unable to move one side of my body. He came right away, worry creasing his brow. I hollered and he cried, unable to do anything for me.
All Christmas Day I fought death in the basement as they tried to celebrate. I remember the talks about taking me to the vet on Christmas Day. After a day I was able to sit up without falling over. He decided to take me to the Vet and I rode in the pet carrier quietly, worried my pains had ruined Christmas for everyone. The Vet Lady was mad, she asked why he hadn't called.
“What do you want to do? You have an 18-year-old cat. Do you want me to give him more medicine? How much more are you willing to watch Carmen suffer?"
With that, he gave me one last hug and nodded to the veterinarian.
“You made the right choice.” I wasn't sure if I said it, or she did or we both did at the same time.