I’m hoping to move soon to some hot new digs soon. Because, in all honesty, my apartment isn’t fit for a crackwhore. I have been living there for well over a year now, and my disdain for the entire complex and management grows daily, so that sometimes I even contemplate shoveling the sidewalks or – God forbid – fix a bathroom sink, because I know that would totally throw the management a curveball. Their entire world might be so shaken that they may even have to consider jacking my rent again.
Besides moving, working three jobs doesn’t leave me a lot of down time, but it has given Charlie (aka: Catshit, Bean, Beaner, Heifer, and You Little SHIT!) endless hours of alone time in which she can sleep, shed, shit, and eat. Then when I return home at the end of a long, hazy day and collapse into bed lacking the energy to even take out my contacts, Charlie decides it is time to practice for that 5K coming up next month to raise cancer awareness. The laps around the apartment are endless, and her sensibilities are severely wounded when I finally gain the energy to angrily groan her name against my drool-soaked pillow. After a few minutes, she will finally put aside her indignance and leap onto my bed to make amends and ascertain that I am, in fact, not yet sleeping. This has been the course of our relationship the last seven months.
So, after much deliberation, last night I sent Charlie packin. I love the silly cat and it was a tough decision to make, but in the end I think we will both be much happier. She had become much like chocolate to me. I love chocolate so much, but damnit, it makes me fat. With Charlie, I love her so much, but damnit, she makes me ornery.
So last night, I packed her and her belongings into my car, fighting tears and crossing my fingers that I had made the right decision. Once we were on our way to meet her new tormentee in Fargo, Charlie let me know how unhappy she was by howling over my radio. The louder I turned up my radio, the louder she howled. Suddenly giving her away didn’t seem like such a bad decision. As we grew close to Fargo she became quiet… then the foul odor hit my nose. Immediately rage filled my heart. I pulled over in a truck stop, and pulled her out of her carrier. My suspicions were confirmed. She shit in her carrier. I left Charlie dusting her hair all over my carseats while I dumped out cat turds in the truckstop lawn. I cleaned out her carrier in the bathrooms as best I could and scowled at the curious onlookers as I made my way back to my car. I stuck Charlie back in her carrier, resenting her every moment for the embarrassing and disgusting cleanup routine. We hopped back on the interstate, and her incessant howling began again, and I actually began to look forward to saying goodbye.
In Fargo, Charlie met her new roommate, Sharon. Sharon is a lovely woman, who will no doubt spoil Charlie silly and shower her with Christmas gifts and cat nip. Despite my irritation and annoyance with Charlie last night and the past seven months, she has been a constant companion and endless entertainment. When I hugged that little hairball goodbye, I couldn’t help but spit out cat hair, tell her to be good, and even cry a little. Happy trails, Bean.
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