Bad Luck

           And there's a black cat, which people say are bad luck. I walk around Cat Rangers. I shouldn't be here, but I want the work history for the day I become free. Worked this many years at Cat Rangers. I brush the cat hair off of toys, clean the windows, do the dishes, and pet the cats. Good job, but in truth I'm a dog person at Cat Ranger's and it's volunteer. I didn't tell my parents, which I should have. See, my dad's allergic to cats. They found that out when I was young and cat dander in my old apartment caused my dad's eyes to swell. So, this may not be a great idea. Black cat, bad luck. I spray Windex on the windows and wipe it dry with a towel. Must keep this place clean. Sweep, scrub, mop. Cats will scratch, bite, or spray you when you get in their private space. The ones with the orange collar are vicious, so avoid them. Also, be careful entering and exiting the building since the cats can escape. There's no way. But, it's quiet. The place I live has no quiet, but Cat Rangers is quiet. Light meowing, but no rude neighbors knocking on my door for no reason at 2 am. No hearing about bodily functions. No one's punching my door because someone's laundry was moved. No broken coffee pots because of telling the cats to shut the fuck up. No people live here. Just cats. Which seems strange. See, I know people who are homeless. The need food, clothes, healthcare, and other essentials. This could be a homeless shelter and help people, but these people care about homeless cats. Go figure. The place is surrounded with scratching posts, cat toys, cat food, cat nip, round cat beds, and furniture. There's no carpet, except on the scratching posts. I could get used to this place. Easy. 

           There's an orange and white cat and I bend down to pet it, but it runs away. I keep cleaning. I clean the human restroom while someone else empties the litter boxes. I take the water bowls, empty them, wash them in the sink, and put them in the dishwasher. I feel a cat walk against my right leg which feels nice, but I go down to pet the gray cat and it runs away, too. I don't get cats. I'm assigned to take out the trash, make us coffee, report on food intake. 

           Then, I see a fellow volunteer playing with the cats with their cat toys. Things like lazors, floating mice, yarn, the usual. Then, the black cat rubs against my leg and I kneel down to pet it and it lets me pet it. I kneel down, pet it, and it purrs. There's a chair close by, so I see if it'll let me pick it up and put it in my lap and it does. Careful, cats have sharp claws, spray, and bite. But, it doesn't. It moves its back and let me pet it. I ask someone what their name is and a co-worker says, “Pete,” so it's a boy.

           See, one of my exes had a cat that hated me. Or, rather, it was jealous of me for taking my girlfriend's attention away. But, a few things happened with that cat named, Cementete, which is Spanish for I found you. The first thing is my ex and I were having sex and the cat used my leg as a scratching post. It ran away one time and I tried to catch him, but he was too fast. I can catch a dog, but not a cat. I refilled their food and water bowl and the cat didn't like it since their water was in their food bowl and vice versa. There were a few other things, too. One time the cat did something I liked, so I said, “Good, girl” and my ex told me the cat was a boy. I told her that didn't make since, since it was a cat and all cats are girls. All cats are not girls. How would they reproduce if they were all girls? So, this cat is a boy, which I now understand. 

           When I had dogs, I always preferred boy dogs since they were more dependent. Females had more to prove. That's the trouble and the good side of cats. They have to prove they don't need us, but we don't have to walk them every few hours. If we could just breed a dog that could use a litter box, it's be the perfect animal. But, the cat curls in a ball on my lap and I pet him. He purrs soft and then starts to snore. Maybe this is a dog caught in a cat's body, because this was something my dogs did. Doctors also say petting an animal lowers human blood pressure. But, can a cat learn dog tricks? Can a cat beg, sit, give me their paw, lay down, roll over, and nod yes and shake no? I don't know. So, I get something that looks like a treat and put some in my hand, close my hand, and show it to the Black Cat and say, “Sit”. The cat gives me this strange, puzzled look, scratches my hand, and get the treat. 

           “Bad, kitty. Sit.” But, it doesn't sit. It's eyes change. Then, he starts running around in circles, jumping onto no object, and attacking me and the other cats. Cat treats are weird. There are also cat jokes like, “My pussy's on my pussy” which makes sense if you're a woman and you own a cat. 

           My ex's cat sprayed the apartment which stunk. She also waited to empty the litter box which no one, not even the cat, thought was a good idea. If you own a cat, you can't have any other pets: Dogs will attack the cat, the cat'll eat fish, snails, mice, gerbels, birds, and any other creature you own. Cats shed. You also have to give them monthly pills, which, if they don't want, is challenging.

           I hear the black cat snore on my lap. If a dog trusts you, it'll expose its stomach, but if a cat sleeps on you, it's the ultimate form of trust. I pet the black cat. I ask Sierri why black cats are considered bad luck and Sierri says, “In most Western cultures, black cats have typically been locked upon as a symbol of evel omens, specifically being suspected of being the familiars of witches, or actually shape-shifted witches themselves.” But, I'm a Spiritualist and have friends that are witches and there are good spells and bad spells and maybe this witch is a good witch in a black fur.

           I pet the fur. It's softer than a dogs. He has ribs, just like a dog, but sharper teeth and stronger legs. My dad's allergic to cats, so maybe that's the bad omen.  Or maybe it's an old wive's tail. Maybe.  The cat wakes up and looks at me with dog eyes. The pupils of a cat are different than the pupils of a dog. I've always considered myself a dog person, but maybe that could change, as long as my dad doesn't find out.