MEEE-OOOW

A teenage boy from down the street brought us a stray kitten on Monday.

Boy: "Do you guys want a cat?"
Me: "NO! NO! NO! No more animals!"
D: "Yeah! Cool! Look how cute! Ahhh..."
Cat: "Meow. Meow!"
Me: "FUCK."

I made it clear that under no circumstances would she ever be allowed inside. Because while cats and dogs are great, wonderful, marvelous creatures, they require more maintenance than I am willing to provide, both financially and physically. Also, emotionally? Sure, animals have feelings too, right? Anyway, I don't know where she came from, but that evening I found a few cans of tuna in the cupboard and put one out on the porch steps, along with a small bowl of water. The kitty attacked the tin of tuna like it was a live mouse, and she has not left the porch since. Every time I open the door, THERE SHE IS, meowing like it's going out of style. Meow! Meow! TRANSLATION: Please, please, please let me in! It's as hot as balls out here and I want to rub my butt on your leg! Meow?

What to do? Do I keep throwing tins of tuna on the porch? I don't want her to starve or dehydrate, but I also don't want her to be our responsibility. As much as I hate to admit this, I've totally neglected Bogart (our chihuahua) in a baaaad way since Ethan was born. We've had Bogart for about 2 1/2 years, and before Ethan came along he was my baaaaaby. I would snuggle him at night and give him kisses upon returning home from work (I know, I gag at the thought now, too)... and the minute Ethan came into the world, everything changed. Bogart went from being the cute little pup that slept in my nook to a ratty, stinky, yippie, disgusting, germ-infested health hazard. I even remember that in the first weeks of Ethan's life I would only pet Bogart with my foot, so as not to risk transmitting any sort of canine germs to Ethan. Things are a bit better for him now, and he really seems to understand that Ethan is our REAL baby. He has been quite the trooper, so if any animal gets my attention, it'll be Bogart.

Anyway, I'm not particularly fond of the BUTT RUBBING that cats are famous for. Rubbing against my ankle is one thing, but when I went to sit on the porch she also brushed up against my arm... leg... back... any part of my body that could possibly be invaded by her rear end, was. And that just can't be sanitary.