October 10, 2010

Pussy

As in kittens. Not clams.
About a year ago, we adopted two cats. This was shortly after our beloved "Kitty" went to the Rainbow Bridge. The missus and the kids conspired and the next thing I knew, we had two garbage tearing maniacs in the house.

I am not a cat person. I grok far more to canines. However, there are some battles that just cannot be won. The all black one- Jibolet (aka Gibsy or Ribsey or Riblet or Asshole #1) spends his entire existence trying to get more food. The other one, a grey tabby named Roo (short for Rucifer and aka Asshole #2) is scared of his own shadow.

The feline occupation in the Nomad household helps to explain my alcoholism.

If you haven't already dismissed this posting with a "why the Hell is old Nazz doing the crazy cat lady thang", the answer is...
I don't know.

Maybe because it's yet another example of me being dominated by the other denizens of the residence. On the other hand, it's a fair trade-off I spoze to keep the family happy. Of course, it backfires sometimes. The other nite, I had been given a free ticket for the Slayer/Megadeth show at the local arena and I gave it away to spend "quality time" with the Nomads. Who then dispersed to all corners of the house to do their own thangs.

Which resulted in me sitting on my own, staring at the screen and drinking pumpkin beers all by myself when I could have been hammered and listening to mindless death metal with a bunch of troglodytes.

Like I said.
Pussy.

2 comments:

Jon said...

I just got offered an enormous German Shepherd. 125 pounds. My friend can't take care of him. I'm kind of a cat person and he would be like 12 cats moving in all at once. I don't know. Sweet dog though. I might just babysit him for her. He's desperate for exercise and so am I.

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

Jon. Do it. My old dogs, from their porch up in Rainbow Bridge, will guide you, should guidance be necessary.

Nazzy - I too have chosen to stay home instead of following my more feral instincts and ended up, as I did last night, listening to sports talk shows on the radio as the old dear took in a new episode of Desperate Housewives. Like that old Tony Curtis/Charles Bronson movie - You Can't Win 'em All.