The Ever Changing Moods of Bernie Boo.

There's no delicate way to put this, Bloggy McBloggerson, so I'm just gonna have to come out and say it. Last night, while we were happily sitting on the couch watching the characters from "Lost" quote the characters from "Of Mice and Men", Bernie, my feline pride and joy hopped up on my lap. She's not usually a lap cat so I was moved, I was touched, I felt special....and then I felt POOP ON MY LAP! POOP. ON MY LAP!!! And before you ask, she's old enough to know better but not so old that she couldn't help it. This was deliberate. This cat was making a statement of some kind, but I'll be damned if I can figure out what it was. Naturally, when someone poops on your lap it gets you to thinking about your history with them and I'm no different. It all began almost four years ago, when for our first anniversary, the Robeau decided he would buy me a cat. I think because he thinks everyone should have a cat. Either that or it was an attempt to distract me from the eventual desire to move in together. "Here, live with this instead!"

It was a couple of weeks before Christmas and we went to the Humane Society to look at the cats. There was a cute, young, playful cat that caught my eye in the first cage. He had been taken out and was getting brushed. He looked like fun. We kept moving. Towards the end of the room, all stuffed into the shelf at the back of her little cage was a big, brown cat. Just staring at us and purring. It wasn'’t a happy purr. It was nervous. Like a nervous laugh. "Heheheheee...pick me. Pick me!"

If I'm being honest the cat kind of freaked me out. There was a quality she had that made her seem like she could become unhinged at any moment. We moved on. Pretty soon it just turned into this blur of cats. I wanted all of them and none of them. Panic began to set in. "“Surprise me". I told him. "Pick a cat for me"”. I couldn't do it. What if I picked the wrong one? It was that very moment that I realized why I had stayed single through most of my 20's.

I sat out in the hall and waited for him to tell me which cat he chose. He came back and handed me the clipboard with his choice written on it. He picked the big, brown one. The fat, fuzzy, frightened, neurotic looking cat who purred to cover up her fear. Ahem. I guess the Robeau has a type.

So we went and met with one of the volunteers who interviewed us to see if we’d be suitable caregivers for this 4 year old cat who had nowhere to go. Would we allow the cat to go outside? What would we feed the cat? Have we had other cats? Did we succeed in not killing them? Why would this cat be better off with us than in that steel cage in there? The woman went away. We waited for what seemed like an eternity. I was sure we were going to be turned down.

Eventually she came back and told us that the adoption had gone through. And not just that. Instead of the regular $75 fee, this cat, this big, brown cat, was half price. Why? "Well...she’s overweight and she has bad teeth and dry skin..." the volunteer was sort of shaking her head. I suddenly felt complete solidarity with this cat. I threw my hands up over my head and yelled "I'’m half price!" If that is your criteria lady, I am half price. $37.50 later we took her home. And my god, I love her so much. I love everything about her. Everything! Her quirks make her all the more adorable. Well, all except that one quirk, that thing she did last night. When she POOPED on my lap.

Seriously, I would like to know, how do you go from this big bowl of adorable...

...to a mug shot that makes Nick Nolte look like Prom Queen?


I took this picture of her this morning...the morning after...the incident. What on earth could I have possibly done to piss her off so much? Did she just find out we got her at a discount?