My name is Butch – Butch the Cat

I was homeless, living outside in the suburbs. Rita – the crazy cat lady – treated me well. She would feed me morning and night plus an occasional hit of cat nip. I looked inside her patio door and dreamily watched her feline family enjoy central heat and cable. Winter cold was setting in. I knew I had to develop a plan to infiltrate this home. It was only going to get colder.

Operation: Moving on up.

Plan 1: Appeal to her heart by getting into her car engine and acquire a mild wound (don’t want to get killed or anything!) so she would take me in, nurse me to health and fall in love with me.

Result: Screwed up my timing, hit by a fan belt, and Rita took me to the Vet. – Damn needles and stitches. Outside again.

Plan 2: (A variation on Plan 1.) Get into a slight scuffle with Mike the Bastard Cat.

Result: Mike the Bastard Cat not only kicked my ass, but bit the hell out of it also. Back to the Vet. Shots in my ass. Plus side: Vet said I had to be watched closely and take pills. Oh momma – I am in. Sabotaged my medical care. Every time I came close to being healed I mysteriously became sick again. After two months of this critical care, I knew I had won her heart.

Wrong!

Rita found me a new home – three hours away. I haven’t gone this far to live in a trailer park in dumb f**k Egypt with some guy.

He never had a cat before – eee-ha – virgin territory. I stayed under the couch when he was home – the only time he saw me was when I flew out of the transport cage when I first arrived.

When he left for work, I played with all the toys that Rita gave me, left them in the middle of the living room, and sneaked minute nibbles at my food so he’d think I wasn’t eating. He thought I was dying from malnutrition – I don’t think so.

This went on for six weeks. He sought advice from Rita and her friends – ha!

One night he called Rita to tell her that when he adopted a cat, he actually thought he would see it.

Time to play hard ball. I bet everything – I knew it was either to a cat homeless shelter (I don’t want to die!), or Rita would understand her karma would have to be repaid in another life if she did not intervene.

BINGO! Success at last! Rita and her friend Marilyn drove three hours to pick me up and take me to back to the home of my choice. When she came to the trailer, I flew under his bed and patiently waited for her to place me in my carrier.

On the three hour return trip, I folded my paws, purred and smiled all the way home. Marilyn kept laughing knowing that I, Butch the cat, had won!

I now am the master of the house, keeping the other cats and Rita in line.

Central heat and air, great food, someone to clean up after me – the good life. Stitches, a bite in ass, at home with my girl Rita – priceless.

Butch the Cat

(Photo of Butch the Cat taken by Rita. Photo of Mike the Bastard Cat taken by Puff Ball. Trailer park photo from http://www.indiana.edu)