Why Didn't I Think of This? I Love Cats!!
"a lot of feces and a lot of urine, just like the other one" - Fox News in reference to the residencies of the "Cat Lady."
So in the DC metro area the last two days, about 500 cats were found in two houses apparently owned by the same woman. Now this is called "cat hoarding" the news has informed me, twenty times, and it's motive perplexes me. Who really wants that many cats? What were they doing with them? And some of the dead cats were found in bins, as if to be stored. Is this a sex thing? I'm so confused. Even if it was a sex thing would not a just few dozen cats suffice?
Miraculously, some of the felines were still alive and I was the expecting the story to continue with a heartfelt adoption drive where the community comes together and gives them good homes, but no, the news was like "and the rest were euthanized." I guess it was for the best.
But seriously if anyone has any insight as to why someone would want hundreds of dead/almost dead cats, please let me know.
posted by --Robert-Campbell-- @ 5:03 PM
3 comments
3 Comments:
Hi pure prattle,
Since your blog is so cutting edge and your comments are always innovative, I thought I'd give you a special treat--an insider perspective. As Kitty #387, you could say that I was just "one of many" felines forced to eat my own shit when the meow mix ran out. I remember the first time I sat back and realized "Oh Christ, we're really fucked" and it was only after I witnessed one of my litter mates gnawing on the hairball of one of our dead buddies out of starvation and boredom that I started to mull over my options. At that point I had two choices: maintain the status quo, or yell my fucking head off for some attention, because I'm a Tabby, and that's what we do best. You'd think 500 cats=PARTY! but that's really not the case. We're all just regular guys, trying to make it in the world--and when you find yourself relying on a 97 year old lady in a nightgown for sustenance and hygenic upkeep, you know you've hit rock bottom. All I know is I'm never getting laid again, because no matter how many times I lick myself I still smell like dead kitty piss. Alright, that's the scoop from the inside...not as glamourous as it's been made out to be--but hey, that's life.
Nothing says Home like a 3ft thick carpet of cat poop. And I mean that.
Also, were the dead cats in bins stored by type or alphabetically, by name? Mittens 1, Mittens 2, Muffin 13, Nelly 6... etc?
Just a question.
robbie- me, you, saturday night?
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