Name: Boo (3)
Location: Washington State
What makes Boo so mean?
Boo is the most evil thing ever to inhabit five and a half pounds of orange cat flesh.
If only I had known. I would have gotten a plant instead. I found a helpless little ball of orange fluff in a parking lot in Dallas in 1988. I took it in and fell in love with it, hiding it in my crappy ghetto apartment, avoiding the pet deposit on that roach motel. All these years later, Boo is a screaming, pissing, door-knocking at all hours, seventeen year old Bitch Royale De Luxe Orange Pussy: a special breed, of which there can be only one.
You see, she is the cat equivalent of the devil.
She practices blood curdling shrieking techniques and howls mournfully and bangs the bedroom door at regular intervals throughout the night. She cannot be let in, without whizzing a puddle in the corner; therefore, she cannot be let in. She sleeps all day, gathering strength for the night’s campaign of terror. She’s sleeping on top of the monitor as I type this, looking innocent and cute, thinking mayhem and human sleep deprivation.
We had to purchase a large dog kennel for her to stay in when she has a particularly crabby moment, or day. She once took the other cat’s favorite toy, a fluffy piece of bunny fur, and placed it in the center of a fresh pile of pooh she had conveniently deposited in the mosaic doorway of our bedroom floor. She had been hoping Ray’s huge lumberjack boots would squish the pooh into the crevices of the tile mosaic, thus nailing both humans and the sweet black kitty in the same act of war.
She is the reason we have wood floors now. She is the reason there is an ugly dog kennel in my living room. She is the reason we take turns sleeping on the couch so that she will have some company and not feel completely ostracized from the family, though it only makes her slightly less of a bitch, and is only really effective if I do it. She is the reason I’ve spent thousands of dollars on veterinary care and kitty products. She’s the reason I’m going to buy some($&^@ kitty Prozac this month. We are going back to the vet to demand some chemical relief for her suffering and ours. It will probably cost as much as a car payment.
She probably hears voices in her head–“Meow. Mrrrrrooowwww! Never let the humans sleep! Meow! Meow! Poop on Everything! Meow! Meowwwwwww!!!”
Photo submitted by: Sandra