Thursday, September 20, 2012

Furry Socks/Cats Suck

I hate cats.  There.  I said it.  And I 'll say it again I hate cats.  If you love cats, please don't take this personally.  I'm happy for you.  I don't wish cats ill-will.  I just don't like cats.  I don't like kitten videos on YouTube, big cats, little cats, striped cats, fat cats....nope, don't like them.

A million years ago, my family got a kitten.  A sweet little calico kitty with patches of grey, brown and white.  I was five years old and extremely excited about having a pet.  

I wanted to name the newest member of our family Furry.  Um, I was five, it sounded perfectly fine to me.  My older sister, Dana, thought I was stupid and wanted to name her Socks.  And of course, per usual, my sister's idea was the smart, better one. (The kitty had white paws just like socks.) But per usual, I wouldn't budge and cried about the unfairness of life and how Dana always got her way.  My mother and father had us compromise and name the cat Furry Socks.  But for the next 11 years she would simply be called "Kitty."

I showed nothing but little kid adoration to that damn cat and she never liked me.  In fact she would hide and pounce on me as I walked around the corner.  There were several times my mother would have to get the broom out to swat the cat off my leg.  Sometimes at night I would wake up to find the cat attacking my feet as if Kitty thought they were mice stuck under the covers.

So yeah, I have literal childhood wounds from a mean cat.  That is only part of the reason cats aren't my favorite.  I am way too insecure for how cats walk around the house like you are inferior, even though you clean up their poop.  They only come sauntering around when they want to and if you piss them off they hiss at you.  What the hell?

I'm more of a dog person.  The "hey look at me, love me, look at me, do you love me, can I make you love me, hey want to play?" openness/neediness of a dog appeals to me.  Um, you might say I can relate more to dogs. 

I'm more Odie than Garfield.

My husband, Tim, knows how I feel.  We've been together for over 14 years and you know I've told my cat story a couple times.  That cursed Furry Socks.  That's why it was all the more shocking when my husband showed up at the front door yesterday with a kitten.  That mother f#*&er brought home a cat.
My kids ran out to greet their dad and the fuzzy ball of wonder he was gleefully holding.  I slammed the front door locking them all outside.  I might have said a lot of few very bad words.  I might have overreacted a bit.  But there was no way I was going to adopt a cat/kitten/kitty.

Tim looked amused, confused.  "How can you not love this cute little kitten?," he asked through the glass door.  "Is your heart made of stone? C'mooooooon."

"No way! How could you do this?," I dramatically screamed.  "You know I don't like cats."

After a little more hysterical screaming, a few tears from my disappointed kids, it was over.  

"Mommy you need to get over your past fears," Lucy sobbed.  Yeah, I've told my kids my cat story too, they know all about Furry Socks.  

Even with the kids' tears and the animal loving husband's goofy smile, I was not swayed.  I only let them in the house for five minutes and then sent the cat back.  Tim and the kids took the kitten back to the owner to find another home.  Because I hate cats.

"When I grow up I'm going to have 10 cats," JT said this morning.

"Well, then I won't come visit you," I informed him.

Here's a video (I didn't make it) that shows that cats can be jerks.  I laughed at some of this, but it also haunted me.  There is one shot of a cat pouncing on a toddler that brought back a lot of painful memories.


  1. Congratulations on the cat! Here's a post about another cat. And you thought your Christmas tree would be safe when the kids got bigger.

  2. Oops. I have a problem not reading all the way through. I was just too excited to share the post of the cat killing Christmas.

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