Monday, March 1, 2010

Hollaback Girl

(Pre-Script: This post will wrap it's tale around your heart if you read it as the song, "To Find My Way To You," #26 on the playlist, plays in the background. So go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...) (...still waiting...)

This is the tale of a time when I was blinded by love. Some would call it "puppy love," due to my age and vulnerability, but those with a more keen insight will choose, instead to simply call it...kitty love...
Once upon a time, an orange tabby cat showed up on my doorstep unannounced. He was given food and milk, so from that moment on, he was mine, and I was his, and I loved him to death. The jury is still out on if that last statement was literal or not. I mean, technically, no, I was not driving the car that hit him, but it is possible that he ran out into the street to avoid yet another hug. I just wanted him in my arms all the time, is that so wrong?? But I am getting ahead of myself.
Is it possible to be whipped by a cat?
If you believe anything that happened to me in my 6th year of life, you will believe that it is.
I believe that it is, because I actually lived my 6th year of life, and remember it.
I was whipped good by my cat Jake, and let me tell you,
if being whipped by a cat is wrong, I didn't want to be right.
My Cat Jake was as comfortable commandeering my pillow out from under me while I slept as he was commandeering my heart out from under me while I did everything else, and he not about to budge, and I, in my scrawny 6 year old girl self, was not strong enough to push him off of either place.
he knew it.
I was his holla back girl.
He only scratched me a time or two.

*Let the record show that I no longer hold cats in such a fashion.


1 comment:

Kevin said...

Did he only live a short while?