Brilliant ideas? Brainwave? Have I got a doozy for you, Daily Press Bloggers!
A year ago, my sister was driving home from the grocery store when the driver of the unremarkable, white panel van in front of her started throwing kittens out of his window at 35 mph. It happened so fast, and she was so concerned for the poor baby kitties, that she didn’t get his license plate number – so, yeah, the jerk is still at large. Panicking, my sister slammed on her brakes and dashed out to the grassy stretch alongside the road and grabbed the kittens up. There were only two. The lady behind her had also seen the horrifying incident and instantly pulled over to claim one of the kittens.
Shaking and upset, my sister arrives with this tiny, all black thing whose purr-motor was louder than seemed physically possible for something so small. She told us the disgusting story and ended with the catch: “Oh, but, you know, I can’t have pets where we live, so can he stay here until I can find him a home?” (Anyone see where this is heading?)
Worried about internal injuries, it took me a whole 5 minutes to decide to take him to my vet to get a complete physical and first set of shots – and yeah, by then, I was getting fairly attached with this little love-bug and figured that if I was going to fork out money for a vet bill, than the cat was ours. My kids were thrilled. My 2 other cats, Boris and Sasha, were not. We were all happy to hear that he hadn’t sustained any injuries from his abrupt flight out of the window of a moving vehicle. (I’ve since then begun to question brain trauma). Naming was only an issue for about 10 minutes, when as soon as the cat heard the word “Karma” leave my mom’s mouth in respect to the jerk with the van, the kitten responded with a big ol’ “Meow!”
Karma is a horrible name for a cat. Especially, when all you hear the kids yelling is “Bad Karma!” You never hear them cheer “Good Karma!” Makes you wonder if you’re attracting the wrong kind of energy to your household… or inviting the wrong kind of rescue cat into your family! That little – monster, for lack of a better word – thinks he’s a puppy. He will literally pick up his GLASS dishes in his mouth and carry them through the house when one still has water in it! – and I won’t even get into his obsession with murdering Q-tips, just suffice to say we have no more in the house, not even the ones that were in a ceramic jar with a lid. His Coup de Grâce, however, happened at about 5:30 this morning, when he decided that jumping up onto the island counter and playing with the tassels at the ends of the runner would be great fun.
The problem is that the runner was sitting under three, large glass goblet candle holders. I was awakened by the sound of glass shattering on the hardwood floors – a very lovely way to wake up, let me tell you! One,sole goblet survived to tell the tale. The runner and his companions, after a full sweeping of the entire kitchen to get every little shard of glass – did not. And who’s standing there looking up at me with his big yellow eyes and a hesitant “meow?” Yep. Bad Karma. That has become his official name now.
With my colorful choice words issued in displeased, growling sentiment, that little bastard darted under the Christmas tree and has been hiding there ever since. I can’t imagine why anyone would ever want to throw him, of all cats, out of a window…or why anyone in their right mind would make the brilliant decision to keep him. But, bad, good or on crack – he’s ours.