Jinnistan wrote:

Cats don't belong on leashes.  No wonder he's so mean.

He didn't like it, but it was the only way he was getting out of the house considering we lived on a major road that would have squashed him if we ever let him out on his own. And I've had too many squashed cats to let that happen again.

My current cat is now enjoying the benefits of living on a quiet street though. All the neighbours know him, but this time for his benevolence.

Jinnistan wrote:

I actually wasn't thinking that was autobiographical.

I only have one gear: Truth!

5

I look bad on buses in the morning. Even worse now that he’s stopped biting her and has more time for me.

Marbled like blue cheese, these are junky arms. When I raise them over my head and my sleeves roll down I can feel their eyes get all over them. All the way to work, strangers looking. Thinking I’m only in here to get out of the cold. Probably didn’t even pay my fare. Definitely not someone with a job and beginning to feel the dried blood crackling on my skin as I sway back and forth and try to stay standing.

Blood I’m sure wasn’t there when I woke.

It's probably something he did while I ate breakfast. Sometimes, don’t even notice when his teeth are in me anymore. His violence nearly gentle while I’m spooning cereal into my mouth. Maybe tired from an entire night of biting me. Or just wanting some of my milk.

At least my girlfriend is happy how he likes her now. “He must have really missed me when I was gone”. She doesn’t know what else could have caused such a change. Gloats over how she can finally wear short sleeves again and no longer has to explain to her co-workers that it isn’t me that has been tearing her arms apart. She didn’t think any of them ever believed it was all the cat’s fault. "I almost started telling them I was walking into doorknobs but...”.

I guess it's good that no one thinks I am beating my woman anymore.

It seems there are benefits to this cat hating only me.

So maybe I shouldn’t feel guilty when I agree to get another one. I have begun to worry he won’t like it, that he will feel forgotten, but then I think how nice it would be to feed a cat a plate of tuna and have them smile back at me. How I think I deserve this kind of cat.

Or maybe I’m a bleeding piece of shit and should just continue being eaten by the one I already have. Let it finish the job and stop my complaining about how no one loves me.

No number of cats will fix this.

Just shut up already.
 

7 

I didn’t tell Popular Amy I’d take it, but she says she’ll be at my house after work anyways. She’ll bring his bowls and litterbox and a couple of cans of tuna too.  

I followed my family's advice, and I was getting her cat anyways.  

This may have been a mistake but tell myself it wasn’t so bad. Could have been worse. At least it wasn’t Unpopular Amy who was coming. God knows what kind of cat that would have been. How long she would have stayed after dropping him off. 

When Popular arrives, she tells me the whole story. How she only had him for two days. Says some man at the bar had a box of kittens and told her she could take whatever one she wanted. Chose one small enough to carry around in her hand for the rest of her night of drinking. But now she didn’t want it. She’d woken up, and it was still there. Not what she’d had in mind when she brought it home with her. 

“And my boyfriend’s allergic.” 

When she let him out onto our floor, I saw how small he was. No bigger than a mouthful of tea. Soon hiding beneath our dresser and crying out for the mother he’d been separated from too soon 

“His name is Cash”, she said. "Cute, huh?” 

I thought it was another stupid cat name. But unlike last time, I was definitely going to change this one. Maybe that’s where I went wrong with Cabby. Didn’t think of anything better. Let him down from the get-go. 

“Can you do me a favor”, I ask as she leaves. “Don’t tell anyone about this. I don’t need this getting around. No more cats”. 

“Sure, sure”, she says.  

And I think I almost believe her. Seems like she’s already forgotten what she left here with me by the time she gets in the cab idling in front of my house. 

She didn’t bring any tuna. 

How does one fall apar t elegantely?

9

I thought I should be crying as I write this. Waiting for the obligatory tears before I dared say anything at all. How it wouldn’t be fair if I wasn’t. Because this is about Magoo, and I was crying when I wrote all the other ones. But I’m not crying at all. I’m just sitting here without my cat. And I’ve already cried enough the last four days.  

He was better than your cat. 

It should have happened to yours. 

What did you do to Magoo?

Jinnistan wrote:

What did you do to Magoo?

He got sick and died before I could finish writing this. So all I've got left in me is an unused Facebook eulogy to tack to the end.

My condolences.

9 

The choice was mine. That's what I was getting. She would keep the apartment. Probably all the friends. She’d let him move in before I moved out. His bass amp already here and leaning against my wall. Already sleeping in a room next to it. And as for the teacup, that was only a maybe.  

But I could take both cats. On this she was clear. She thought I would need two of them considering how I’d been behaving. Pulling paint off the walls with my fingernails. No idea where I was going. 

“And I'll be paying for the moving truck ”, she added as I kept sitting there. And sitting there. “That'll be a bit of a help, I hope.” 

I still had a choice, and it was my choice to make, but I said no. Told her I still loved Cabby, but he didn’t love me anymore. He was her cat now and it would be cruel to take him wherever I ended up. They belonged together.

As for Magoo, he was stuck. It seemed he chose the wrong one to love so much. He would be coming with me, to wherever. Maybe that concrete room I went to see under the street the day before. With the streetcars rumbling above and the drains in the floor. The cheapest thing I’d seen so far, but still so much more than just staying here. With the hardwood and all the natural light. The pleasantly distant rumble of traffic. The high ceilings and enough room to fit my stuff. 

Maybe this would be the bad place I was bringing my poor cat. He wasn't given a choice, like I had been. But sure he would have picked me anyways because he was the only thing I still knew was mine. Or that wanted to be. 

So, Magoo would be coming to witness what was about to happen.  

I was taking my cat. 

But just one.

The teacup, undetermined.