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chocolate cannoli it‘s a deal breaker, ladies

medium pimping: I Took Your Cat.

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›post #89
›bio: raquel

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›that week

'le vie c'est tres droll'


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Trixie The Wonder Cat is a cat of many talents. She can pee in the toilet.  She loves to party. She can work a sidekick. She enjoys climbing on your shoulder and pretending to be a parrot. And she was headed straight for the shelter if no one was willing to take her in.
So my friend adopted her.

My friend already owned one cat, a very beautiful, but fierce little thing. Let's just say that #1 Cat was not all that thrilled for Trixie to move into her territory.  They would fight over the bed at night, and my friend got more than one scratch on her face from being trapped in the middle of a literal cat fight.  No, my friend is not Nelly. Band-aid aside she looks nothing like him, but we can borrow his name for now.
Sadly, #1 Cat passed away suddenly.

While #1 Cat was suffering through her final hours, the oblivious Miss Trix stretched out in a patch of sun shine.
This made Nelly very angry.
"Trixie is just lying there enjoying herself while #1Cat is dying! How dare she!"
Nelly and I agreed that she was irrationally upset with Trixie the Wonder Cat, so I offered to take Trixie in while she mourned for #1 Cat.
Nelly agreed.

One trip to the vet and $500 dollars later, I was upset about all the poking and prodding that had been done to my furry ward. I marched into the nearest pet store, set down Trixie in her carrier, and cried, "Show me your most popular cat toys!" Like I was some sort of clueless father who had sent his child to boarding school in Switzerland a few years back and suddenly remembered he left his son there the day before he turned 11.
Turns out burlap mice are very popular with the feline set. I bought 12.
Much to my fiance's dismay, I never gave back that cat.
And yes, Rich I still have your photoblaster!

BONUS STORY (because it's been a while):
When my then-boyfriend first met, Trixie, I was complaining a lot about her name.  I explained to him that even though I would never change the name of a nine-year-old cat, I would never have named her Trixie. "Trixie sounds like the name of some stripper in East Tennessee. That's exactly the kind of name that's going to send this cat to the pole. And it won't be my fault, because I would never saddle such a sweet kitty with a hooker name like that," I went on and on,
"Seriously, have you ever heard of a cat having such a slutty name?"
"It's time I tell you," my boyfriend responded, "That my mother's name is Trixie."

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