Wednesday, October 24, 2007
You've come a long way, baby.
Today is Dolemite the Cat's birthday. He is 4 years old, which translates to "still a jerk" in people years.
Technically, his birthday might not actually be today. The shelter where we adopted him from couldn't pin-point his actual birthdate, but did say he was probably born between October 20th and October 30th. So we decided he was born on October 24th. It doesn't really matter... he can't read a calendar anyway.
I can still remember the day we adopted the jerk...
We (me and the boyfriend at the time, who is now no longer the boyfriend) had just moved from a mouse-infested apartment in Boston to another apartment in the building next door. I wanted a cat to protect me from rodents in the new apartment. I NEEDED a cat to protect me from rodents. I was so tramatized from the mouse apartment that everytime something glinted in the corner of my eye, I assumed it was a mouse and promptly freaked out.
The boyfriend did not want a cat. I whined and begged for weeks.
A few weeks later, on New Year's Eve, we attended a party hosted by one of his co-workers. He is a chef, so the party food was elaborate. The host, knowing that I don't drink, prepared a highly carbonated non-alcoholic fancy shmancy fruity lemon thing that I think also involved ginger. It really was quite beautiful, although I really don't like carbonation. It makes me gag. It's too fizzy. Wah!
I sat there holding the giant glass of good intention in my hand, trying to think of a way to dump it in a plant or something. I didn't want to be rude, but I could not drink this thing. I do not have a sophisticated palate. There was too much going on with that beverage. I like plain things. Like warm apple juice.
So I sat there surrounded by tiny sausages wrapped in puff pastry blankets and spare ribs marinated in imported sauces I had never heard of, while bitter over-worked chefs argued the merits of Kobe Beef. I sat trying to hatch a plan to get rid of the lemony, zingy beverage.
Then, the boyfriend solved the problem for me by saying,
"If you drink that, we can get a cat."
Two days later, we are at the Animal Rescue League in Boston looking at felines when we spot him... a tiny grey and white mangy looking kitten hovering in the corner of a tiny cage. We ask to see him in one of the "get to know you" stalls to see if we get along. We had to wear rubber gloves because the kitten had just arrived about 3 hours ago and had been flea-dipped.
The Rescue worker tells us that he was rescued from a dumpster in the back of a Burger King, and he was all alone. No siblings. Nothing. A tiny kitten all alone in a big fast food dumpster. Cue the dramatic music.
We carry the little trembling furball into the stall and the woman tells us to watch out because a rabbit was just in there with it's future adoptive parents.
The little grey kitten jumps out of my purple-gloved hands, runs under a chair and begins eating rabbit droppings.
Obviously, we had to adopt him.