Time is of the EssenceFollow

This is a brief story about my feline roommate, Basil. He has been a good companion as I make the transition from living with a warm place to put my weiner into bachelorhood. A fantastic beast, he is a member of the Manx breed of kitty, and is roughly thirteen months old. Unlike the manx picturd in the link, he is silver with white rings, and has no dangley little earring. I'm not sure what sort of freaks indulge themselves by accessorizing their pets with what appears to be a Christmas tree decoration, but that is f[red][/red]ucking weird as all get out.

This is also a tale of my procrastination, and what I fear is perhaps the end of me and my cat as we've known it.

Basil first came to live with me last July tenth, and was a tiny little kitten who had been abandoned in an apartment complex. I took him in as my own, and he quickly came to love the security I provided. I got him his shots, and we lived happily ever after.

That was until yesterday, when I caught him pissing his noxious bubbley urine all over my dirty laundry. With a swat and a chuckle I brushed him away from the violated laundry basket, and thought to myself: Well this seals the deal, it is time for his nuts to go.

I had hoped it would be unneccessary for him to be neutered, as he is a strictly indoor feline. I had heard the horror stories of spraying and everyone let me know how he would run away indefinitely if he ever reached past the front door threshhold. I just knew he would be different, and to my horror I've discovered he is.

Last night, I'm hovering in that pleasant place between sleepy time and waking, and I feel a little love nip on my wrist. Then I feel a furry rubbing against my left forearm, and I start to come back from slumber-land. By the time I open my eyes his little kitty noodle is protruding and attemtping to impregnate the soft skin of my inner elbow.

That's right, the cat was making tender manx love to my left forearm.

Now here's something that may surprise you; I found this utterly disturbing and promptly shook him loose. He gave a sad little meep and stared at me with his yellow-rimmed green eyes, totally perplexed at how I, his true love, could shun his noodley advances. I felt instantly guilty, like I was depriving him of some instinctual need to procreate on my elbow, and then I chased him till he hid under a table where I cannot reach him. I cursed violently. In the end I chalked it up to an example of his affection, and slept with my door locked. This morning while I was eating my breakfast of two eggs over easy, toast and bacon he approached the afore offended left arm again, and nibbled at my wrist, attempting to again straddle the soft inner elbow. He was again deflected.

So today will be the day he loses his spuds, I only hope it's not too late. I imagine that what will happen is he will return home like a lobotomized version of his prior self. I assume he's going to lose his *****.

The moral of the story? Please spay/neuter your pets before they come to this, and discourage your elbow from being so damned sexay.

Come on now, Basil, into the pet-carrier with you.

Similar story, different gendered feline.

I had obtained Kitty from the pound as a young kitten about a year prior to moving to a new apartment. I chose to name her Kitty, for she was infact, a Kitty, and I did not want to confuse her by calling her something else. She was a very nice Kitten and quite cute.

Then, at about 6months, she went into heat.

This made me, my 3 other male roomates, and women in our lives, and the other random visitotors to my aprtment quite uncomfortable.

However, since she was going to remain an indoor cat, and at this point was too young to get "fixed", we dealt with it.

So, we move to a new apartment and sure enough, Kitty's in heat. Keep in mind the entire previous year she had never once escaped the confines of our residence.

The very first day in our new apartment, my new roomate let her outside.

On a side note, his name is Blaine, and he is a massive tool.

After she returned to the aprtment, I promptly had her fixed. However, there was something I did not know about Kitty.

She had been pregnant.

The vet didn't bother to tell me this before "fixing" her, however. It was more along the lines of, "Here's your Cat. And oh, by the way, she was pregnant."

Kitty is no longer the lovalble cat she used to be.

And it's all because I killed her babies.

I can't be sure, but I bet your manx would rather keep his balls.

Edited, Mon Apr 3 14:28:18 2006 by Omegavegeta

I have 3 cats myself. The first cat we waited for a couple of years to get him fixed, because he is a strictly indoor cat. Did he ever try to make love to any object in the house? Nope.

Until we got a female cat. Then it was like he realized what he was missing and promptly tried to mount her at every opportunity.

We got both fixed within a week and they have since both gained about 15-20 pounds each. The female one is just gigantic and even with low-calorie pet food and running her around the house for exercise, she still is tipping the scales at close to 35 pounds.

The third cat was the complete opposite. He was a humping cat from the get-go. He was fixed immediately and still has his humping memories. He is especially fond of My Little Pony (much to our daughter's chagrin). He hasn't gained any weight, probably because he burns 500 calories a day humping poor little Pinkie Pie Pony.

Some folks subscribe to Jungle Fever. Me? I get down with the cat scratch like Nugent.

After reading these replies I sincerely hope the cat doesn't gain the weight and retain his people humping ways, or I fear I'll be hauled into court after my cat rapes the nieghbor kid. He's already close to twenty pounds and growing everyday. You can tell because his pants keep getting tighter.

WTF is it with Joph and his household torturing rabbits?

poor rabbits

"All the world shall be your enemy, Prince With A Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you they will kill you. But first they much catch you -- digger, listener, runner, prince with swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people will never be destroyed."

Edited, Mon Apr 3 16:40:41 2006 by Jophiel

We just had to put our dog to sleep last week.

15 years, almost as long as we've had the house. :(

That was great!

Sorry to hear that. I had a dog I adored once, died when he was nine and it still felt like he went too soon.


After reading all that, the one thing that stuck in my mind was whether or not you pronounce that "BAH-zel" or "BAY-sil".

BAH-zel. And as of today he's never going to be a daddy.

He's not so tough anymore though, eh? You should just see him cower as I wave my fully functional genitals at him. What's up now!?