The stupid story: Why my ex is my ex: A guest post by my dear friend Dan, who is nuts.

The stupid story: Why my ex is my ex: A guest post by my dear friend Dan, who is nuts.

Today my friends and I were sitting outside, having our coffee and Daniel regaled us with he story of his cat... Here it is in his own words.

"I was in between jobs and my ex (because she obviously knows my life better than I do), told me that I needed a friend... I said NO! So that obviously meant that it was definitely happening because with girls "No" means "Yes please!"  (In the world of girl consent for anything but sex, no means yes... such is the nature of relationships).

So here is where it gets good... So we head off to the PetSmart to get me a beta fish... and we walk out with a damn cat... Yes, a cat. How we made a leap from a fish to a mammal is beyond me to this day.

The cat was actually a nice cat.  Mr. Christopher the Third... (not really relevant to the story, but it was the last of three cats that were owned by an old lady that died.  She was an old lady, she died, her cat ended up at the petsmart.... it had a lame name like Topaz or some shit... Thus I decided he needed a manlier name.)

He was pure white, with one blue eye and one green eye and had an awesome personality.  At the end of the day he ended up being a really chill friend.

Until the ex decided that he needed a bath. (Cats do NOT need to take baths... well maybe once a year.... or once a month, I mean really they clean themselves constantly, so why would they need baths?) Someone please google this.  My sources are legitimate. Have you ever had a smelly cat?  NO because they don't smell thus they don't need baths.  That is sound logic.  And by the way, it didn't have fleas either.

So according to my ex, a normal bath would not do.  We had to buy shampoo (damn she was an idiot).  We are standing in the isle looking at all these options for cat shampoo (like who gives a shit) and I just grabbed one and said "let's go" and she says "No, NO no, this one has anti flea stuff, like it prevents the fleas" and I said "No".  So that definitely meant it was happening (see above). So she buys flea shampoo for the impending cat bath.

Did you know cats are allergic to peppermint?  Yes. that's a thing.

So, we are drying off the cat, and I say "hey Ex GF, why is there so much hair in this towel" and she says "that is probably normal, it was probably just dirty hair. Let's just feel out the situation and see how he does for the rest of the day." So after we notice the cat is walking like a drunk sailor on leave, it finally clicks that MAYBE she was wrong about the bath idea. I don't want to rub it in that I was right... but after this cat started having conclusions on my kitchen table, I'm pretty sure she should have erected a billboard that said "My Boyfriend was right from the start" and she should have put them all along the i-10... I need that many billboards for how right I was.  Not only was I right, but while MY cat was dying, she didn't know what to do.  I mean I didn't know either, but I took action and freaked out appropriately.  I mean man, the sound it made when it was dying...

So the cat is dying in my arms, he's like "insert dying cat noises here" and I am freaking out and trying to figure out who I can call. Is there an animal 911?!?!  The vets were not open because it was like, night time, I am looking for emergency services.  I thought I'd get arrested... Do I bury a dead cat? I don't know. Do I throw it in a dumpster?  I was living in an apartment complex so I didn't have a yard.  Do I go bury it in the park? I mean really what is the protocol here?  But most important was, can I save it.. because I'm a hero and stuff.

So I put him in a cardboard box and get into my car and make her drive so I can try to give him chest compressions.  So we are speeding in the car, getting lost trying to find a vet. And she is a horrible driver and doesn't know anything about directions and I'm sitting there trying to resuscitate the cat, doing little chest compressions with my thumbs. Not that it was effective because I was afraid to break the rib cage.  Then it pissed itself in the cardboard box it was in and that's when I knew it was dead...  yeah.....

We get to the vet and the vet basically says "Thanks for bringing your dead cat. If you'd like us to do anything with it, it will be like $300..." So they gave me a paw print thing and I threw it away.  And then she wasn't my girlfriend anymore.  So that's that.  And the worst part, the only photo I have of this cat is on a phone that she put into the sink.  I got out of the shower one day and it seemed wetter than usual (Interjected: it probably was the toilet) "Oh, I had not thought of that".  So yeah.

Blogger's Note: My dear friend Daniel is a bit of a socio path.  We don't judge him... much.

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