So we have a story from today that I can only classify as one of these hand of God stories. I feel like I’m making a spectacle of myself when I mention these moments when God seems to be tapping me on the shoulder or sneaking up behind me to give me a hug. It’s been little things like weather patterns that seem to follow my watering, energy appearing on days when it’s absolutely needed and disappearing on days when it’s not. But I just had one today that really seems too straightforward a gift from heavens and I don’t really know what to do about it except to write it down.
A quick backstory. Last winter, I found a stray cat living in my barn picking up birds and mice living in the wood pile. I bought a bag of factory food to be kind and started leaving a bowl in front of the house. The cat became attached and we became friends in a way. For the longest time, I didn’t even know if it was a male or a female. I’m not really that into cats and this cat was not coming into my house and for very good reasons.
I’m allergic to cats. They make me sick. I have had cats in my life and gotten along with them well but this is not the case anymore. Perhaps I would be okay with them, bathe them often and make sure that they are okay for being in the house. But we have this perpetual pandemic here on the people around me are extremely ill sick people. I don’t mean that they are hospital sick, I mean that they’re just simply life degenerates in general and their metabolism is so toxic I can’t be near them. Vegan empathy probably being my biggest problem. The problem is made worse because all of the illnesses that they bring with them perpetually from town end up in the air and they exist in the fur of the cats. When those cats demand to be near me, basically I start shitting.
For a while anyway, the deal was charming enough. The category that it would basically ask me to come inside and I would say no but continue to feed it. It was a free agent, it could come and go as it pleased. I really didn’t want it in the house except if I knew I had a mouse and then maybe I could invite the cat in to get the mouse and then back on the street. This is how clever I was. I genuinely thought it would be nice to have a cat to deal with my winter mice problems. If, I could manage not to have the cat live with me. That was the big trick in all of this.
Spring roll around and as these things happened, I learned the sex of the cat. It was a female. I learned this because I listened to her scream under my window, I looked and I saw that we now had kittens. She had a liter of four kittens and I named her Reggie Jackson. This is because she is an orange cat and in Russian, the word for such a cat is very similar to Reggie. I then named the four children as I saw them. Tiger was the first boy, the most mobile and strong out of the womb. Beige, a female who also had the stuff of life in her. Then we had belly, a very white cat who was very fragile and finally Runty. You could see that there was not enough juice in there to make a life for the young man and he passed when he agreed that he could not play with his brothers and sisters because he was not strong enough.
Belly went as well. We had a political moment with her. She didn’t just declare that she couldn’t play with her brother and sister, she demanded her right to be in a home. For however many generations, these cats have lived in a symbiotic relationship with people. The personalities that these cats were showing me were equal to all of the females living in my neighborhood. They literally were making female plans. And her family supported her and they came to see me in a unified front. This girl needs to be inside. I said no. I don’t want cats in my house. Then the other young cat step forward and asked if I wanted them. I said no. I don’t want cats in my house. This is very disturbing to them socially and egotistically. Belly died a short time later. When you know, you know.
So then we had the two children and the problem was that the mother would eat all of their food. I kept trying to give them some kibble, but every time I did, the mother would push them aside. I don’t know what was going on in her brain. Maybe she believes that the only way to feed her children is with her milk. Maybe she’s angry at me for usurping her power as a mother by giving the children these awful drugs. But she herself is a crackhead for this stuff. She is a crackhead and she acts like it. I mean, if you know what crackheads are like, you can see the traits. I’m not just saying nasty things, I’m saying this is an outright personality and a cultural norm for Russia. These are Russian cats.
I went through a period of yelling at them. Banging pots and pounds. It was merciles because I was so sick I couldn’t move. And yet they would just put themselves in front of me. Feed me. We are waiting for you. Our entire life is your food. I felt like a monster. It was a nightmare. What started as an idea of imparting kindness on a creature down on its luck ended up to me me addicting a living thing and now having to live with the results of the monster I have created. I have been a drug lord to these cats. I am the cartel.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. My health was becoming ridiculous. My days and nights were like perpetual toilet runs or trying to keep myself from shitting myself. It was endless and there was no rest. But every time I tried to go outside for a breath of fresh air, there were the cats and the moment I saw them in my doorway, I would shit. Maybe it was psychosomatic but it just made me sick.
One night 3 days ago was the worst of it. I was sick all night. I thought it was my fault. I thought maybe it was my friend who showed up here uninvited. He didn’t mean anything by it and he didn’t know he was causing me any problems. He just came on my property and stuck his head in my window. I went out to talk to him and I tried to tell him that I was not really available to play. Things have gone bad and I’m not really doing anything anymore. And in fact, I don’t really have too much contact with people because I tend to pick up their diseases easily. I just can’t deal with this anymore. And I thought that maybe It was just him and his wife and kids and that I was just dealing with his COVID for a while. But then in the morning, I noticed that I had forgot to close the front doors. The whole house was open all night and the cats had been wandering around.
That was it. I had to cut them off. I couldn’t think of any other way to do it. It would be miserable and hard but they would learn or they would not learn. I’m sorry, there’s just no more crack and you’re going to have to learn to deal with it.
Listen to me very clearly. Life is an interesting thing to live and we have lots of relationships with lots of different people and things along the way. No matter how solid and family value you think you’re putting your life together, we do interact with other people. Even if you think only business means that you’re clean, it really doesn’t work that way. Intermingling is intermingling and it has its implications. I have gotten out of relationships that left me in shreds. I have had things taken away from me that could only be described as cruelty by the people doing it. I have suffered deprivation so many times in my life from so many people and so many situations, I simply can’t feel any more pain about it.
Now again, I want to be clear. In my heart, all I want to do is be kind. I don’t have any food for them to eat because I’m a vegan. I can’t give them my scraps and say it’s okay because I don’t have them. I also don’t have access to local market and I’m certainly not going to shop for human meat products for my damn cats. They’re not even my cats. They’re just these living things I found on my property and I gave them factory food like an idiot and now I can’t get rid of them.
This year I decided not to go with the local alcoholics at all for help and have never broken from that and my life is better for it. Because I’m not giving any jobs, nobody looks for me to give them jobs and I don’t have a flow of alcoholics coming to bother me in my house. I’m sorry the pattern is clear. 50 generations of cats living with exactly these obsequious junkies has them acting like obsequious junkies. If it’s good for humans, it has to be good for the cat’s mimicking them.
3 days. Tiger was still here this morning. He was a mess. Reggie understood after a while that there was nothing to look forward to and so she stopped coming. My guess is that beige went with her because they are women and that’s the bond. If this happened this way, I am happy. If Reggie and beige are going to be women alone in the world, that’s romantic to me. I wish them luck. Or maybe somebody picked them up and took them in. At least the child. That would be a good thing. She is an indoor cat and she’s not going to take it any other way. I’m just a bad fit. But then there was Tiger.
I don’t know what to do. In my heart I would say well, look you survived two days without food here’s some food. But then it just starts again, doesn’t it. I had to be strong. I’m sorry kid. I’m sorry you’re not getting it. I’m sorry you don’t understand what I’m saying. You cannot live your life sitting around and waiting for your crack. You’ve got to live an independent life or at least try.
And so I closed the door just so I wouldn’t have to look at his miserable face. Sometimes the toughest decisions to make are the toughest ones to follow through with. But if you think you’re doing the right thing, you do it.
I should make an advisor here. If you were wondering why this is a hand of God’s story, it starts right now.
The reason I was in the kitchen was that I was hungry. I made something kind of interesting and I think I’m on a good direction with it. I’ve been watching videos about Satan. Not the devil but the wheat protein that is kind of a chewy something protein substitute for vegans. You take the starch and out of a bread dough and what remains is the gluten. This is the stuff that sticks together and makes noodles possible, etc.
I bought some of this to try it but never really involved myself so much with it. It has its texture and there is a way to do it but I just never got inspired to follow the hobby. So it sits or it’s sat until this morning. I had made some rice and chickpeas to go along with a vinaigrette root salad and some vegan seed sour cream type stuff. I added the gluten into this plus a little bit of starch and some white flour and I converted the rice and beans to falafels or patties or cutlets. I thought it was a good idea and my idea was to fry it and early pungent oil and use the sauce and the veggies to make everything taste nice. And it did. It was awesome. The patties ended up like smash burgers and very crispy and I serve them with grilled onions, that really flavorful salad and the excellent sauce.
Excellent. And really, it helps when the food tastes good enough for me to eat it because I’m not eating so much these days. I am nothing like I was in the old days. I’ll start eating and lose interest in it really quickly. Just whatever the minimum for my stomach is is all I really want and I’ll just walk away from anything now. I’m also not very good at planning on leftovers so sometimes the second time I come back to a meal it’s not as good as the first. Sometimes it’s better. Sometimes I just do something else to it and make it into something else. I guess that’s the thing about vegan cooking. It is all just food.
And just at this moment, a mouse came from behind the stove and not very quickly at all walked in front of me where I was sitting. I remember thinking about this a few minutes earlier. I didn’t want to give the cats any more kibble. But I was thinking what if I could catch the mouse myself. Maybe I could give the mouse to the cat and it would understand its new sense of food.
I have successfully caught mice before. I’m not a great inventor but if you take a bowl and balance it on a stick attached to a string and put a peanut on the floor of the kitchen, a mouse will come looking for it and you can then catch the mouse. It helps if you put some newspaper down under the bowl so you have a way to keep the thing in the bowl. They get away sometimes when you try to open the trap.
I was thinking about this and then I was thinking of how stupid I felt having to do this. What the hell kind of world do I live in where I have to teach a cat how to be a cat? All the cat wants to do is to tell me it’s a tiny person and all I want to say is you this tiny person is making me shit every time I’m nearby. Sure though. The cat was in the house all night and I still have a mouse here. Explain to me the level of uselessness that is the new Russian federation?
And I asked myself to grab it. I have reflexes. I have a good left hand. I saw the mouse. I’ve been killing flies. I have reflexes. Why didn’t my muscles pull the trigger to grab that mouse? I’ll tell you why. I’m not a carnivore! I’m a human being. Human beings do not immediately think that a mouse is a food source, get it? We don’t like mice. We don’t like mice, we like dogs and cats and goldfish. This is food but this is not etc etc. What hypocritical bullshit! If you were genuinely a meat eater, the entire vegan nonsense I was trying to put together for breakfast would become superfluous because the genuine possibility of eating alive thing would be everything my nervous system craved. That isn’t what happened. It wouldn’t happen for you either. Okay, you could do a challenge and say can I catch this mouse. But you don’t do it as an instinct. In fact, the last thing 99.9999% of all human beings on planet earth would agree: mice are not food for us unless you are in the absolute lowest of circumstances.
But they are food for cats. They are absolutely food for cats. And when that cat went around the corner and I had not taken my swing, I felt like some of the baseball players on my favorite team who are having a hard time in the championship right now. They have the yips. They don’t remember how to hit. They can’t know what to swing at and what not. They are vexed. I’m not talking about playing baseball. I’m just saying I had a chance to catch a mouse and I let it go.
Here’s the hand of God. The mouse walked past me to get into the gluten bag. The smell of the gluten drove that mouse crazy. It had brazenly walked past me because it wanted to find out what the story was in the gluten. I heard him wrestling inside the bag. He had managed to put himself inside the plastic but outside the paper. I grabbed the bag and closed the top and saw the mouse. It had gifted itself to me and literally wrapped itself up as a supermarket commodity.
I couldn’t believe it. I had caught a mouse and I could feed it to the cat. I mean, is this like holding out your hat and having a Kruger and fall out of the sky into it? I mean how can you be emitted an issue about food and have the answer just give itself to you like this? Tell me how I am not blessed! Tell me how this is not the hand of God!
I took my package outside. Tiger was being pathetic. He was ready to give up. His family was gone and he was all alone. And I wouldn’t help him. This was the end. He was no good. He was no good and he knew I hated him. And he was sorry that he was such a bad cat and he wanted me to like him and he was so sorry. But please just give me some food. This was basically his line of thought.
I said okay. I put the bag in front of him. I asked him if he liked what he saw. He said he was too pathetic to look. Is it food? He didn’t smell his food. I said no. It’s better. He looked at the bag. Maybe he considered eating gluten but why would he want to do that? He doesn’t even understand vegan protein theory. He doesn’t even need vegan protein theory because he’s an obligate carnivore. He is not allowed to be vegan because he’ll die. This is why we don’t get along so well. And the fur allergy, The constant begging and the demand to be under my bloody feet. What’s the world record for kicking field goals with a cat?
He didn’t get it. I brought the mouse to the front of the bag so he could get a good sniff of the mouse. Still nothing. I mean, I remember one time when I had a Labrador as a house dog and we met a hunter and the dog got a wing in his mouth for the first time. I remember the excitement and vibration that ran through his nervous system. He was bred exactly for being a water bird dog. I don’t know what I was expecting with the cats but I thought maybe at least a little acknowledgment of nature. City people are really screwed up.
I was afraid of losing the mouse. I may have reflexes but I didn’t catch this mouse with my reflexes. Those are cat reflexes. I have human reflexes. I’m not really fast enough to catch the cat if the cat doesn’t want to get caught. These guys are faster than me. But if the cat was not going to take control of the situation, I didn’t know what else to do. I put my thumb on the mouse’s back and gave it a good squish. I was injuring it in order to slow it down but I didn’t want to kill it. I didn’t want to give a dead mouse to the cat. I wanted the mouse to be alive. Still no reaction.
Well, possession means something in the world. I’m not really such a communist where I believe that we shouldn’t have any possessions. It’s not really possessions to have a place to call home. To have a place that you’re very comfortable in and that you don’t wish to leave is a very good thing. It’s the idea of standard being a good place to start everything instead of having a world with no safety nets where you either hunt or die. Obviously when I do this with the cats we are not getting any kind of happy results. Only misery can be seen and this is local and universal.
I say this because I let the mouse out and the moment the mouse was not in my hands but had the possibility of being in the hands of tiger, he moved. Not a lot. Maybe he was weak from not eating. Maybe he wasn’t thinking about this. Maybe he was so mono focused on getting to the crack, he forgot about his normal diet.
The mouse tried to run. A hook-like paw grabbed it and brought it back. Cats are not really the most intelligent creatures on the planet. They can be cunning I suppose but they’re not really that clever. It really did take a moment for all of this stimuli to sink in. And then suddenly he stuck his tooth into the mouse and it came out with a little bit of blood on it and that’s when it took.
The leftovers were not as good as the first time and I lost interest in eating pretty quickly. I have more stuff lying around for later and so maybe I’ll do something with this to make it palatable. Maybe it’ll all be some kind of soup or something like that.
And of course I have no idea what the story with the cat is going to be. I mean, literally it might just sit there waiting for me to come up with another mouse. Or maybe this thing is going in the right direction because it’s supposed to. I am much happier without the cats bothering me too much and I think the cats are much happier without their addiction to factory food. Or maybe they are supposed to be our drug addicts, theoretically taking our sins away from us by demonstrating lethargy in a world that we need to work in. I’m sure we have quite a few old-fashioned to the death Christian women who believe in this and the pain of carrying cats bring them happiness. All I know is that God is my friend and sometimes when you really need a lift, you get a present that you didn’t expect but that absolutely hits the nail on the head. And as it is different from my relationship with Russian people, I can’t blame Putin for carrot and sticking me. Vladimir Putin had nothing to do with this mouse committing suicide for us exactly at the moment it needed to.
No. Let me tell you the difference. I’ve talked about a kid who is a genuine hockey talent. He’s one of my friends son and I call him Gretzky because he scores maybe two or three goals every game. We always laugh when we are together because all I need to do is ask him about Gretzky and the answer always comes back with a smile.
The story I heard was that he was throwing off the hockey team where he had been living in the dormitory and playing while going to school. They caught him drinking a beer or something like that and they immediately kicked him off the team. Can you imagine that? A Russian kid trying some beer? Can you imagine that maybe the child’s desire to follow a generational imprintation might be more than the words of the leadership? Is that why he got thrown off the team? Because that’s what it looks like to me.
You know you can give warnings. You don’t immediately execute a boy who’s entire life was based on playing hockey for a mistake. I mean, I didn’t hear the story that he was getting drunk everyday. I only heard that he got caught trying beer. Maybe there’s more to the story but I doubt it. His father is a health nut. The boy is a genuine athlete. And these cult followers are more interested in their rules and their position then the future dreams of any young boy.
And again, maybe I haven’t heard the full story and maybe they are just making everyone suffer for a day or two before they change their mind. I don’t know everything. But what I do know is that this is the hand of Putin. The hand of Putin is this constant pressure on everyone and everything to demand that they have no independence or will other than what they are told. That’s the only presentation I’ve ever been given here despite the fact that I am a lifelong independent and made enough money to retire early on being an independent contractor in this country.
The Russians might like that illusion of being everywhere. And it’s physically backed up by their military. But they are nothing next to God. The hand of God is the benevolent part. It’s the hand of man that kills everyone and everything and turns these little creatures into the beggars that they are. I’m not just talking about the cats. I’m talking about the people of the region who have to live under the hand of Russia. And that hand, I have well noticed, is continually loud enough so that no one can ever hear the voice of God.
I say let nature sing means let freedom ring. I say enough of this slavery. I say enough of this drug dealing mentality already. If we can invent the kind of technology that allows my words to exist in the world, we can figure out how to make a day where the most thrilling part of it is getting to cook dinner at home with your bestie. I think that would be a nice enough world for me to live in and I can probably get about 8 billion people would agree with me that at the end of the day, this is all they ever wanted too.
Hopefully, final update to the story
It’s Wednesday at 11:00 a.m. and we don’t have cats anymore. I’m not so sure I will look good by the end of this story because I had a moment that I’m not actually proud of. Or, maybe I am proud of it because it was a natural reaction and I’m tired of human beings pressing against my natural reactions. Sometimes natural reactions are the best ones because they are the most understood.
It started on the Wednesday of last week. I guess this is one week ago. I had ordered some things from the delivery service and amongst it was two bags of cat food. I was running out. In fact a lot of the tension around the last days of feeding the cats by broadcasting their food instead of putting in a bowl had a lot to do with they’re not being very much food left. However, when the guy came, there was no cat food. I told him there was a mistake and there was supposed to be two bags but he said it wasn’t on the list. I grabbed my phone and looked at the app and sure enough, hand of God, I had forgotten to order the cat food.
That meant I was completely out. I was counting on new food coming in that Wednesday and I had used a very last of the previous food earlier in the morning.
I knew the delivery guy didn’t understand the situation but I did. I whispered to myself the words hand of God.
I checked the app and I could get two bags of cat food by Friday if I ordered on Wednesday. That meant whatever time they delivery came on Friday would be the next time the cats would get some food. I went ahead and clicked the box and made an order along with one other thing that I regret almost as much as buying the food. And then that was it. It was up to me to deal with the whining and crying until Friday and then I guess we would do back to whatever this norm was.
But that’s not exactly what happened. I think I need to clarify that I feel really different about people when I’m not with them than when I am with them. Mostly this is because most people are genuine assholes and the being with them makes me angry. Not being with them reminds me somehow that we were friends at one time and I have warm thoughts and I want to do nice things for them. This usually changes when we meet. I always think of the best possible thing to do. I always want to give the maximum. That’s why everything is like everything with me. That’s how I am. But people are much more closed, cruel and parasitic. They are more hungry than I am and absolutely have no thoughts of being nice to anybody except themselves or their close people.
I was already purchasing the bags and dealing with the mistake as my own that there was no food when the cats started whining at me and my bowels started flowing.
I grew up in the San Francisco Bay area and the local newspaper at the time was the San Francisco chronicle. They had a habit of printing the sporting news on green paper. It was called the sporting green. Maybe they still do this. But for years, if I were to see green paper, my bowels would start to move. If you don’t understand the association, I used to read the sports section on the toilet like my dad.
The cats are absolutely used to this situation and I guess I am used to this situation too. But I can’t take it. I can’t take being screamed at and bothered. I opened the door on Wednesday morning and Tiger was standing right there. This was after I realized I had left the whole house open and the house was filled with cats all night. Here he was, hungry of course, and ready to do whatever but he was going in because he knew I had already made the choice to let them in the house. It is possible that what he was saying was that he now understood about catching mice, he knew there were mice in the house and he was ready to do his job. Would you like to believe this? Maybe I would like to believe this. Or maybe it’s just he gets to come inside and I blow chunks for the rest of my natural life. No.
I caught him with my foot and sent him back outside. I’ve been worrying about my hitting ability lately. I barreled up on that one and he hit the ground wondering what the hell had happened. I want to say that his body was ripped and taught. This live food definitely changed his personality and he was suddenly a red rocket go-getter. He was ready fly! I closed the door. I wanted some breakfast. Please take the message and leave me alone.
I tried to mind my own business but he kept crying and whining and whining and crying. The anger came up in me. Listen, don’t be sitting there thinking I am any kind of Jesus Christ character. I’m not mother Teresa. I don’t have unlimited patience and I have whacked enough people in the face to let them know that I can if I want to. I never want to but some people want get smacked so badly you can’t convince them otherwise. I’m sorry, I’m not interested in this anymore and I lost my temper. When the cat tried to come at me again I grabbed him with my left hand and held him up to eye level and gave him enough of a squeeze to let him know I could break every bone in his body. His eyes opened up wide as pools of water. I had achieved fear. He didn’t make a sound but you could tell this was something different.
I’ve had women say that I have attacked them and this is not true. It’s not my MO. I don’t like fighting. I don’t want to break up my hands and I don’t want to break up anybody else. I don’t want any interaction by any legal system or neighbors of any kind. I don’t like mixing up with people I don’t like. I especially don’t like mixing up with people who are specifically picking fights with me so that they will have involvement with me at the end. I can’t stand being abused and used and I cannot stand obsequious parasites following me around and begging me for action to save their lives. I’ve had women press me for whatever pleasure they derived from it and they found themselves being led to the front door briskly. My own personal emotions were to murder them. If I say that, I don’t want you to think like I actually scheduled a murder and have the weapons ready under my overcoat. I’m just saying I’ve reached the point where someone’s about to get beaten and the women are removed from the premises before anything bad can happen. That was the correct answer to the problem by the way. Not to fight and prove you are stronger or more violent than the other person. Just end the involvement that’s making you crazy and everything gets easier.
I also want to say that there was a time when the cats were just weaning off of Reggie Jackson when beige came to see Reggie when she had a mouse. Reggie turned around and hissed at her with absolute violence. Beige was scared and rightly so. Reggie could have killed her easily a full-grown cat next to a little baby. Of course she didn’t want to. She just wanted to scare her away because her instinct was to protect her food. I’m no different. All living things are the same. Y’all can stand around like Christians asking for a way of life that is absolutely alien to all human animals and act all surprised when people get violent and angry. Sorry, I took out the trash and I sent a message to the trash not to come back.
When the bags came on Friday I never opened them. Beige was nowhere to be seen. They either found a neighbor to take them in or they are just on the road living somewhere and taking care of themselves. It’s possible that the neighbors took them in simply because they heard me talking loudly to those cats and telling them that I did not want them. It was enough advertising that the people near me might understand that I have cats, I have no intention of coming to their house for whatever reason to speak to them is if they are people because they are not, but if they should happen to see a stray cat and desire to bring it into their own home, please, continue the sugar cycle with my blessing. These are your alcoholics and children of alcoholics. Please take them back and care for them as if they are your own because they are.
But then we have another result that is pretty bloody interesting. My sickness is abating. It’s not going away. I’m just getting better. It’s been months. I’m getting better. I’m holding my sand. I am able to do more and stand up. I’m strong enough to get stuff done and I seem to be resilient enough to finish the jobs. I started doing things that have been lying around for weeks because I haven’t had the energy to get up. My kitchen is finally getting clean. Everything is getting cleaned up and put away intelligently and everything starting to look clean and orderly, just the way I prefer it.
So look, if you have been reading my cat stories and find them funny or amusing because you are a cat fan, I suppose I should apologize for this ending. In my life, I successfully cared for a cat but the situation was much different. I do want to say however, looking back, although I don’t remember a direct correlation between having that cat around and any illness I might have had, this was a rather ill part of my life. There is a lot of truth to that and there was a cat during this time. However, I don’t think there was a pandemic and so there was no ability to latch on to all of the microbes and attach them to their fur. That’s the genuine super weapon of these adversarial cats. I’m sure everyone means well but we live in the time of cholera. People are sick and I’m sick too and not everybody can take an obsequious parasite.
This morning I got up and did pretty much everything I wanted to. Reggie showed up and I told her to fuck off. I had a lot to do and some of it was difficult. I didn’t finish all of it. But I did manage to bring a load of wood and clean up the kitchen and get a bite to eat. I’m taking a different medication and it is helping a little bit. I am not perfect in my life but I like going up one level of health. And I know I’ve done the right thing. I know that this entire cap thing was probably a complete mistake. I know that anything I might have done was based on something other than looking after these cats. I understand that I’m guilty of my part of this as much as anything.
But when I was putting the wood in a pile next to the house my asshole suddenly opened and I felt I was about to drop my bowels. It was the first time this morning I had had an event like this. I paused and took a deep breath in concentrated with all my might. I can’t stop it if it’s going to come but if I relax and take it easy I might not get the muscle spasm and I can keep the pants clean. And as I was meditating to calm myself and save myself from shitting in my pants, the thought came into my head that if there is a cat standing next to me I would kill it. And I turned around and there was Reggie just inside the fence staring at me begging me for food.
I have two bags of kitekat cat food in bags. If I find out that anyone has my cats, I will give them these bags of food. Perhaps I will also take the bags of food and simply put them on the street and if anyone sees them, they are welcome to take them. I can put a sign on them saying please take them. If you have cats, if you’d like to keep them completely wired up and tied to you so that your ego is satisfied that you’re not alone and that you’re important in the world, by all means. It’s $5 a bag for 2 kilos and it will steal souls for you if that’s what makes you happy.
