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Monday, July 11, 2011

His Royal Badness

So, as a wonderful Oregonian boardie reminded me this evening, I owe y'all a post about the worst cat I ever owned, His Royal Badness.

Now, Badness wasn't a vicious cat. Indeed the opposite, he was extraordinarily tolerant of human attention, and liked to make his presence known round the neighborhoods that *this cat* needs some lovin' and food, stat.

It all started so innocuously one Mother's day weekend when I was 16 or 17... the neighbor's cat had had kittens, and I decided my mom wanted another cat as a gift. Mind you, Mother Dearest wasn't the most cat-loving person, nor did she want another pet, but I wanted a kitten goddamnit and this seemed like the perfect opportunity for acquisition.

This kitten was thecutestthing on the planet. Long marmalade fluff, tiny, perfectly regal in his little bow that I tied around his neck. Lord help me, he was the Devil in disguise. Mom was in love right away. Dad on the other hand said "What the FUCK are we going to do with another animal?! Goddamnit!"

We tormented that cat, my three brothers and I. Treated him like the world's fuzziest little puppy, and basically had him trained to think he was a dog. He came when he was called, begged for food, tolerated belly rubs and obscenely rough handling. It was awesome!

Then... he got older. And started doing shit that people don't approve of.

My neighbors came over one day to complain about the cat. He BROKE INTO their house to steal their dog's food. How, you ask? Motherfucking ninja cat dropped in through their motherfucking skylight to make his food-stealing debut, and then got stuck in the house cause he couldn't get back out! First of all... how the fuck does a cat figure out how to be a cat burglar through a skylight?!?

These neighbors ended up leaving the door open for the cat so he wouldn't claw through their screens to get in and consume every spare scrap of food in their house... leftovers on the counter? SURE! Dog food? SURE! Dog biscuits? SURE! Stuff in the cupboards? SURE!

The cat was an escape artist. I had to replace screens about twice a month, cause he'd pull the dumb cat routine. "Oh kitty you need to go out before bed? No? OK!" and then the fucking cat would bust out the screen 20 minutes later. After that Mother Dearest would make me keep Badness in my room with me at night. Yeah, that was fucking awesome.

ROOOOOOOOOWWWWRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!! ROOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!! *claws under the door* ROOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMAAAAAAWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *freaks out about the carpet under the door and tears a hole in it*

Fucking. Awesome.

So, needless to say, when I moved out of the parental abode my parents INSISTED I take Devil Cat with me... nothing like sequestering a rebellious feline in a tiny 400 square foot apartment on a super busy main road!

Long story short, Badness busted out of the apartment, and decided to be a neighborhood roamer for about 6 months. After that, I never saw him again. One of our neighbors had moved out of their house, and I'd seen him there multiple times, so I figured they'd taken him in as a "stray" (aka shiftless hollow legged feline with boundary issues), and taken them when they moved.

Fast forward 5 years. I'm post-gaming some super fucking delicious Thai food down in this teeny tiny hole in the wall when.... BAM!

The god damn mother fucking Royal Badness shows up! What. The. FUCK!

He's healthy, happy, and on the prowl for leftover Thai goodness down in the buttfuck middle of nowhere, central coast.

Cat still responds to his name... purrs like a mofo, you name it we've got it! So weird!

Gingers never go away!

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