My kitty and me. A `phfunnily `phfinaesque ode from a panther to her pet ... a pet who she likes to pat. But ... wait. I thought `phfina was supposed to be all panthery, not kitteny-like. Why does my panthery roar come out all kitten mew-like sometimes? 'Sometimes'? Yeah.
I have a little kitty. Black, 'short hair,' is the designation, right? I actually wish my last name was 'Black,' so I could name her 'Jett.'
'Jett Black' ... get it?
Or I wish my last name was 'Jett,' so I could name her 'Joan.'
Yeah, she's a bit snarly, a bit feisty.
She's a frisky thing, a playful puss, always, — always, always, always — getting me into trouble.
And so demanding. Just ... such a jealous thing, I mean, she demands my attention all the time.
But she's nice, I suppose, for a pet. And she likes that ... pets, well: pats, that is. And when I pat her, she purrs and purrs and purrs, and it feels so nice, to feel her purring, it's so ... um ... soothing? when she purrs like that, and it puts me right to sleep, her purring like that.
And she's friendly, very friendly, when she isn't shy. And she is so super shy, she just clams up and hides at, ... well, shadows even. She's a tiny thing, so that's understandable, such a little, young kitty. I ... you know ... I was hoping for a fierce guard-cat like a ... I don't know ... panther or something, but she's just a little scaredy kitty. I mean, she's so shy, visitors think I make it up when I say I have a kitty.
And, well, and this is so embarrassing, but I don't really have a name for her. You're supposed to name your kitty, right? But what do I call her? I don't know. I mean, I'm very affectionate with her, but I just ... balk when it comes to out and out naming her.
So I call her 'kitty,' or 'puss' or ...
... or some other things, and sometimes I don't even use words when I 'talk' with her, I just coo as she purrs as I pat her, and she snuggles right up to me and I curl myself around her, and it's like we're so close and intimate that you'd think we're part of each other.
My little black short haired kitty and me.
And I love her, properly and improperly, no matter how much trouble she's been to me and when she's gotten me into, and she loves me, even with my disregard at times, when I can't tend to her needs when I'm at work, or when ... well, ... I pay attention to other people's pets. She's not even (too) (super) jealous of it.
And, well, I have an embarrassing secret.
My kitty? She likes kisses, and ... well, yes, pats but ... nuzzles, too.
And some people would say, 'Ew! Unsanitary!' but I make sure my little kitty is well-groomed, and, well, you may think I'm a bit (a bit?) retentive about this, but I make sure she's cleaned, you know? Nice and clean, all the time, with a pH-balanced wash, you know.
My kitty. It may be boasting on myself, — you know how it goes when parents brag on their kids, and you're like, 'boring! change the topic, please, before I scoop my eyeballs out with this soup spoon!' — but I have to say she's pretty, and I like her, you know, most of the time, even though she's a little, hiding thing, and unremarkable in every respect, even when she comes out for a pat. Why? Well, because she's mine, and I may not take care of myself all that well, but I, like Rosalie, try to take care of what's beholden to me, as best as I can.
... and (oh, god, this was supposed to be a silly-funny post, and now I'm crying! Sh!t) okay, so I may not be the best caretaker in the world, and, okay, so maybe I'm the worst, but I ... but I'm trying, and, like my little kitty, I'm a shy, scared little thing, trying to be a panther, but running even before you say 'boo!' and my kitty gets hurt and does hurt others,... her bite is worse than her meow, and her claws, that sink into you and never let you go can hurt like the dickens (but no infections, so far, crossed fingers)
(there, I'm smiling again, at my own sad stupid little jokes)
... just like me.
But we try, my little kitty and me. We try. And our trying? It amounts to a whole big pile of what we are ... which is nothing.
But, sometimes, ... a lot of the time ... my little kitty is all I have, and she ... well, she's a lot more patient and understanding and kind with me, a lot more so than I am to her, or to anybody else in the world, particularly to myself.
And ... that.
And someday, she's grow old and die out, much sooner than me. Unless she sneaks out somehow and jumps out the window ... cats do that you know ... or gets hit by a truck.
Or, ... dies some other way, and there are so many ways a scared little kitty can die in this big, big world. I mean, even just a look, because you know looks can kill.
So, any moment ...
But, well, I have her now, and she has me, and, well, you know me, and maybe she regrets that she doesn't have a better owner, but, ha!, who am I fooling, she's just a little black kitty with no brain. She doesn't care, she just gets pats from me (most of the time), gets into trouble, and then gets more pats, and that's a good enough life for her. All and all she's a happy little kitten.
Life is so simple, so uncomplicated, looking at it through my little kitty's eyes.
And I'm asked if she's ... you know ... fixed, and that's supposed to be the humane thing to do, but I just don't have the heart for it, to take away something that's what is her. So, you know, there's more trouble sometimes than others. Boy, does she ever get into so much trouble being that randy feral little ball of short black fur that she is, but she is what she is, and I could wish or hope that, but this is what it is, and that's how I take her, and I don't think beyond that, at all. I don't compare her, I don't hold expectations on her, I just take her, for what she is, moment by moment, and, well, she's like that with me: she doesn't take me for anything that I'm not, and she only deals with what I am, moment by moment. When I'm a angry, furious b!tch, screaming into my pillow and throwing punches on my bed, she pretty much leaves well enough alone, when I'm crying and crying and crying just looking at the knife, she just looks and looks and looks at me, but won't come close to comfort me, and that hurts, but she's smarter than me, by half, even though she doesn't have a brain, and when I'm affectionate, well, she can be very playful, even joining in games when I'm playing with another puss ... she may even rub up against another girl's cat, friendly-like, and if there's no visitor with their pet, well, then we have private time to amuse ourselves, then, don't we?
My kitty. My kitty and me. She has me, and I have her, and sometimes that's nice, and sometimes it's pure hell, but we make it work.
I wish I treated myself as well as my kitty. Maybe someday, eh?
Ha! That's funny. I knew I would end up writing a comedic piece.
Hehehe. Haha. Look at little `phfina. So funny. I should go into improv.
Except for the fact that there'd be all these lights on me and everybody would be looking at me.
God, I think I'm gonna be sick now. Excuse me. I'm gonna puke, and then hide under the covers, snuggling with my little black kitty.
... and maybe some Scotch. A lot of Scotch. I just need the world to go away for a while.
A long while.