You know, I’m all in favor
of animal rescue centers. Really. I have always had infinitely more respect for
animals than I do for human beings, who – due to a combination of so-called
religious insanity, inbred viciousness and brutality, a complete absence of
empathy and kindness, generations of retarded mothers who think their spawn is
perfect no matter the preponderance of evidence to the contrary, relentless and
unchecked pedophilia, bad food, bad parenting, corrupt police forces, useless
schooling, goading by evil “politicians”, greed, arrogance, corruption,
xenophobia, homophobia, war-mongering, the national IQ dropping to less than
zero, all of it – are, for the most part, worthy of a mass extinction more than
any other living beings on the entire planet.
I’m an equal opportunity racist, really – wipe the entire human race
from the globe, including me – and I’d be fine with it. Nobody deserves it more than this global
collection of parasitic, mentally deranged certified lunatics, I don’t care what miserable excuse for a country you
live in, what evil religion you stupidly claim is the only “correct” one, or
what freakish excuse for a corrupt, evil politician you worship.
So speaking of IQ’s less
than zero ... I decided to adopt a cat from a rescue shelter. I won’t mention their name. I suppose their intention is positive: rescue innocent cats from the hellish existence
they endure at the hands of evil human beings.
Cool. I’m in favor of that. Human beings, for the most part, suck, and
deserve to be lined up in a row and shot dead, most of them, simply because
they’re breathing air that other beings deserve more than they do. You’re “offended” by that? Good. That
means I hit a nerve deep down in your psyche that screams “TRUTH!” and you know
that, deep down, you really are as big an a**hole as everyone else on the
planet. Take your offense and shove it
up your ...
Anyway. I decide to adopt a cat rescued by this
feline rescue society. Looked at the
photos on their website, and picked one I liked, for all sorts of reasons. Went there, and they put him in the carrier
and I brought him home. He made a
beeline for the couch and hid underneath it ... no surprise there, lots of cats
do that when they find themselves in unfamiliar territory. I’d talk to him under there ... let’s call
him, “Blackie”. Not his name, but I don’t
want to identify the rescue center. For
4 days, I’d talk to him, “Blackie...” over and over again ... he didn’t
respond. Barely looked at me.
4 days later, the Rescue
Center sent me an e-mail. “Ooops! We gave you the wrong cat. They look so much alike we got them
confused. We gave you “Midnight” instead
of “Blackie”! His entire medical history
is different, his age is different, his background is different, etc.etc.! You have to come back and exchange the
paperwork, do you want to bring him back??”
Needless to say, I hit the
proverbial roof. At least twice. I went back into the living room and peeked
under the couch. “Midnight?” His head popped up and he looked right at me
with an expression of interest and surprise.
BINGO! For four days, this poor cat
had no idea who I was even talking to ... he had never heard “Blackie” before
... that meant nothing to him. “Midnight”
finally made sense to him. Something familiar that he recognized in the midst of this strange new place.
As far as bringing him back –
were they kidding me???? He’d already been
in shock when his owner died and he was unceremoniously carted off to a rescue
center by a disinterested relative ... and because the rescue center couldn’t
be bothered to identify their cats properly, they thought I would do the same
thing to him??? Just reject him – AGAIN? What the hell were they thinking?
The difference between the
two cats was age – the cat I’d asked for was 4 years old; Midnight was 7. He also had teeth issues which would need
expensive dental treatment at some point, and after I chewed the ears off of
the Rescue Center, they agreed (in their defense, without objecting to my
demand that they do so) to cover his dental treatment. Good.
It was the least they could do, after that screw up. I absolutely refused to put that poor animal
through another abandonment and rejection – he’d been through enough already.
And he is finally coming out
and roaming about ... after I’m asleep, naturally ... so I’m thinking of
re-naming him “Vampire” after he’s come out of his shell. He’s getting there.
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