Runaway Cats

I have mentioned owning three cats and most of my family and friends accuse me of being a, "boarder line cat lady." How did I come across 3 cats you ask? Well the first one was because I had just gotten my first apartment in Denver with my boyfriend at the time and we decided we needed a cat. We searched all over news papers and countless Petsmarts when finally coming across a big, white and black, fluffy, six-year-old named Patrick. It took a three-day application process which included being forced to read material on how its inhumane to declaw cats and the importance of keeping an adopted cat indoors. Once we got Patrick home, my very weird boyfriend wanted to rename him Mortimer. In protest, I only called him, "Mister Meow Meow," for the first few months before succumbing to the name.

Well, I had a full time job as a teller and boyfriend decided that Mortimer needed a, "little buddy to keep him company." I was ok with this idea because I wanted to get a kitten since I satisfied my guilt about kittens being the only ones who get adopted by getting Mortimer. So, one day I am having a mother-daughter date in Loveland and right before my mother and I go into Target, I ask her if I can check the stock in Petsmart there. I immediately fell in love with a fiesty, orange and white, runt named Pumpernickle. He was the last of his litter because he was so fiesty. I called boyfriend and told him that I had a surprise for him and although he clawed up my chest at first, he fell asleep in my lap the hour-long drive home. When I first introduced Mortimer to Pumpernickle, Mortimer was immediately furious! I think he thought we were replacing him. Well over the next week Pumpernickle would go and attack Mortimer's tail then run away and hide in the space between the wall and the couch where Mortimer couldn't get him. Then he'd climb up the back of the couch and attack Mortimer again when he wasn't looking. This is how he got renamed Napoleon. Eventually the two either A) fell in love or B) took on a father-son relationship because they were inseperable. They clean eachother and cuddle to this day.

Well, after we moved into apartment number two in Lakewood to get away from the hooligans in Denver, boyfriend decides they need a "little sister." I told him no but of course he didn't listen. One day he comes home with Curtain whom he had renamed Julius (because he was orange get it?). When I asked him why he got another boy, he replied, "Because he was prettier than the girls." Yes. Boyfriend was shallow. After both cats threw a fit for a week or two, they accepted him into their unhealthily close relationship.

Well, since moving back to Dad's from Arizona. Dad always threatens to "throw out" the cat he catches making a mess in his home. So far, I have caught each cat out at least once or twice. Well, if you can afford the vet bills if he gets hurt, or my therapy bills if he disappears, then by all means, let him out. Once, I came home to find the neighbors dog chasing not only Mortimer, but Julius too. Thank God I had gotten home when I did or they both would have been Kibble. The 2nd time I couldn't find Julius, I start calling for him and he is in a bush next to the house. Would he come out easily? Of course not. I had to crawl in said bush and then chase him around the house to convince him to come inside. Tonight was different because Dad confesses that Napoleon got out while he was taking his bike out. I called for him and he started meowing from a neighbors. He was scared to come home because the sprinklers were on. I am starting to suspect that theses "accidents" are no more an accident than me being blonde.