The Washington Times-Herald


June 10, 2013

A cat-astrophe for Mr. Butterscotch

WASHINGTON — Simply put there comes a time a male cat’s life when he must go under the knife and have his reason for living removed.

The nice thing is by the time you know they are ready for the procedure; you are more than ready to do it yourself.

For the last six months, our cat, Mr. Butterscotch, has spent every waking moment letting us know, he doesn’t want to live indoors, he does want some lovin’ and quite frankly, he believes “if you build it...then you should pee on it.”

My wife and I have long felt that responsible pet owners do not allow their cats to act like every “baby daddy” who ever failed a paternity test on the Maury Povich show by alley cat-ing around. Instead, we have taken the bullet and endured the shame of having a cat with a crush on our pretty little blonde bath mat (after recently breaking up with several of my daughter’s stuffed animals).

I’m not saying the cat has never been outside; from time to time he has escaped his monastic lifestyle. He has learned that when the door chime goes off, he has exactly 1.3 seconds to make a run for freedom. Recently, he was lucky enough to slip out and spend a night on the town, before coming home smelling like gin and Turkish cigarettes. When he returned, I looked at him with disgust, but with just a returning glance, his look told me to “talk to the paw” and then spent the rest of the day curled up on the couch.

There was a time Mr. Butterscotch just wanted to chase a laser pointer into the wall, knock bowls of food off the table and sleep 22 hours a day. Those were salad days and that was a time when cat nip was just a little more important than nipping another cat (or raising his furry little hind end over a pile of clean laundry).

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