Pussycat Dolls

My cats are gay. There’s no way around it.

My cats are gay. It’s something that many 21st century parents have to face at some point.

Figure #3: "Thunder....thunder....thunder-cat...ooooh"

My cats are gay and I’ll learn to deal with it and love them for who they are no matter who they choose to love–especially since they’re choosing to love each other.

As a matter of fact, they “love” each other in front of me all the time.

At first I thought, “how cute; they’re cleaning each other”. Then I started noticing how often they were cleaning each other.

They’d clean each other on top of the litter box….

on the couch…..on our bed.

 

Maggie in more innocent days

For a long while, we only had Maggie, a sweet, timid, middle-class cat that was as pure and innocent as a first snowfall. Maggie is the apple of my eye.

But then we got the bright idea of taking in a street cat that looked like nothing but trouble. By her own account she’d spent 6-10 months on the streets “doing whatever with whoever”–other cats, rats, birds, dogs— just to get by.

As I ran a hand along her belly, I noticed she had track marks along her belly. I asked her about them. She snapped, grabbed me by my cardigan sweater and said, “Let’s just say I seen some shit, ‘k?”.

And we left it at that.

It was soon after that I came up with the name “Winehouse” for her.

Since we were instructed by our vet not to introduce the cats right away, she lived in our bathroom for the first two months. Day and night she sat in the dark, carving shivs out of our toothbrushes and hairbrushes. Nunchuks out of linked tampons.

When her and Maggie finally met, Winehouse definitely liked what she saw. Later that night, I caught her emailing her trampy-ass cat friends. She ran off before I could catch her, but the words on the screen told me all I needed to know:

Figure #1: Lion-O can't get the cats to come....callin'

“I’m gonna turn this b!tch out”

I mean, it wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t flaunt it so much. I mean, we’ll be eating dinner or watching Mad Men and I’ll look over and see the two of them lickin’ each other like lollipops. I’ll be like, “Hey–I’m eatin’ here!”. But they don’t stop.

Figure #2: Garfield's sure happy to see some kitty in his face

And now it’s to the point that Maggie is into it too–one time I came home to find Winehouse ‘cleaning’ her so thoroughly, Maggie was slowly beating one paw against the floor. They didn’t even hear me come in.

So I decided to break them.

The Kids…Presents: The De-Gaying Your Cat Test

I left the following posters seen in this entry around the apartment. After a week’s time, I’ve recorded the following results:

Figure #1: “Lion-o in Action”: Subjects spent Days 1-2 circling Figure #1, afraid to come near it. At one point, during Day 3, Maggie attempted to touch it, but was immediately hissed away by Winehouse. As of Day 6, poster remains untouched.

Figure #2:”Garfield Getting Goosed”: Subjects intially intrigued by possible “baby bump” sported by the orange tabby. By Day 3 though, it’s determined that he’s “probably got a dong”, and remained untouched as of Day 5.

Figure #3: “Cheetarah in Ecstasy” : Immediately desecrated within 10mins. Subjects seen copulating on poster at various points, sometimes alone, sometimes together. Subject B (Winehouse) seen carving, “Yeah, take it b***h” in lipstick across poster. By Day 2, it was uncommon to observe both cats exhausted and smoking cigarrettes on top of Cheetarah’s face.

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3 Comments

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3 responses to “Pussycat Dolls

  1. Kristin

    I don’t know if my laughter is genuine or nervous. Either you have waaaaay too much time on your hands or “Winehouse” needs to go back to rehab!!! Maybe you should rename her “Danielle”? And my poor Maggie needs therapy and some man-meat.

  2. trejohns

    Remember that whole “quality vs quantity” discussion we had? We may need to revisit that soon.

    Man-meat=gross

  3. I thought that Sarah was the one that named her Winehouse, which became “Winehab” after many glasses of wine that night.

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