Cats don’t always pick the right people to love. Take my mom for example. She fell in love the father of her feeder. The same man who would kick her across the room every time she tried to love on him.
I wish I could say that I learned from her mistakes. But I’ve devoted myself to a man named Evan – and make sure you pronounce it right – he’s very particular as that one girl found out after getting dumped in the cold – it’s ‘Eh-Van’ not ‘Ee-Van’ and especially not Alvin. That’s his father’s name.
I first came in contact with him at the kennal – i was left there when my mom was adopted again after being rescued from that terrible man. In walked Evan – the soon to be love of my life.
“Yeah I want a cat. I had one growing up and they’re great.”
The truth is more depressing, he just dumped or been dumped by – which he still refuses to admit – his 3-month girlfriend, which for him was a long time, but all things considered an even longer time for her. She was – or is, i suppose – hispanic. He voted for Trump.
“Yeah that was when I knew we weren’t going to work out. It was one of the red flags. She didn’t understand the need for the wall and was all about the emasculation of males. She didn’t understand my work.” His work being that of propogating the needs of oppressed white males.
“You know it’s funny but what are considered minority groups are actually the majority. They hold the vote. When really it’s intelligent white men who are in the minority. We’ve been beat upon enough with all this white guilt. It’s time for us to reclaim what’s ours and not keep getting beat down by women and minorities.” He ordered a bottle of Trump wine that he drank alone on election night. Trust me. I would know.
I was there.
*disclaimer – the above is fictional and makes me, Mickey, writhe in anger against said ‘Evan’ if it’s not obvious from the tone of the writing.