Inshallah

Yesterday I took Henry to get his teeth cleaned. I went to pick him up after work and OH MY GOD I have never seen him so furious. His eyes were glowing red. None of the vettechs would go near him, so I had to put him in his carrying case myself. He made unholy noises I have never heard from him in thirteen years, or for that matter, from any living thing on this planet, and I was filled with strange pride to have such an passionately angry cat.

On the ride home, as not even Axl Rose could manage to drown out his screams of fury, I started thinking about that infamous Glitter declawing thread, and about that ridiculously sanctimonious asshat who tried to tell me I was a terrible person for having declawed my cat. I remembered the analogy that idiot used, about would you amputate the hand of a child poking you with his crayon, and how she called me a child-molesting twat. I asked Henry if he thought I was a child-molesting twat. I can't tell you what he said, but it wasn't very nice.

Yet even after all that, he still slept on my pillow last night. Now that's love.

I've taken to calling the kitty on my porch Bartleby, but it told me in my dream last night that its name was Rebecca. If I ever get close enough to peek under its tail, I can make a more informed decision.

I would never call a cat Rebecca, unless she specifically told me that was her name.

---

Hard to believe Oscar went into hypoglycemic shock a year ago today. Rest in peace, Square Dude.

lizzyjit, my mom totally fell in love with Marley. I think she would have tried to take him home with her had Richard not threatened to check her tote bag when they left.