My mom has an asshole cat. Heâs pushy, standoffish, demanding, hates to be pet, wonât sit on laps, grumbles and bites other cats. All the typical asshole cat stuff. (Yes, heâs healthy and has regular check-ups; heâs just a dick.)
I got really sick while house-sitting for my mom last winter. My nose and ears sealed up completely, my chest was congested, my throat cracked, my eyes swelled up and I couldnât really sleep because my airways kept closing the second Iâd lie down. Iâd just lie on the couch on a mound of pillows and periodically fall in and out of a daze.
After about three days of this, I snapped alert all of a sudden in the wee hours of morning, choking, unable to inflate my lungs all the way.
My momâs asshole cat was huddled down on all fours smack in the middle of my chest, looking horrifically uncomfortable with the situation, PURRING and PURRING like a damn chainsaw.
He cracked an eye to glare at me when I moved to pet him. This doesnât make us friends, he said.
âGood kitty,â I croaked, rubbing his cheek with one finger. âNice kitty. Good boy.â
You stink, he said. You disgust me.
Then he brushed off my finger, shut his eye, hunkered tighter, and kept purring. I fell asleep. I donât know exactly how long he was there, but it was at least a solid hour.
Even asshole cats will cast heal on you.
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