Jake

Ever since I found out that I would be forced to give up the wonderful life that is a college student and move back in with my parents, I have wanted some sort of comeuppance. I mean, my parents get exactly what they wanted and I get nothing? That doesn't seem fair, now does it?

Well, I had asked for a puppy. Nothing big. Just something nice and small to sit on my lap while I sobbed my way through Lifetime movies until I found a job. Plus, this would be my dog. I would raise it and care for it and someday (hopefully right after I graduate college) I'll leave with this little guy and he'll live with me until he dies.

Right after mentioning a dog I had some problems. Firstly, my father shit a brick. His face got all red and he shouted, "No! No, no, no, no, no, no! No! Absolutely not! NO! Are you out of your fucking mind? Jesus Christ!" and then slammed into his bedroom.

(By the way, my friend didnt believe me when I told her he had that exact reaction, so I showed her. I came home with her and said, "Dad, B is really excited that you're letting me get a puppy." He instantly turned to me and shouted, "WHAT? You're not getting a puppy! No! No, no, no, no, no, no! No! Absolutely not! NO! You are out of your mind. Get the fuck out of the way of the game.")

Also, we already have a dog, who, while being sweet to us, is a bitch on the street. As soon as we hook her with a leash and step out into the open she gets a sudden, overwhelming thirst for blood. Not to mention she's pretty old now and we tell her about a million times a day to get off the couch, don't go near the couch, stay away from the couch, do not even LOOK at the couch while we're gone. It would be a mighty slap in the face to suddenly come home with not only a brand new dog (my little way of replacing a dog that already hates me), but to also let it roll all over the couch.

So, I went to the Humane Society to check out some of their dogs. They had some cute puppies, but the breed got to be donkey-sized, and I didn't really want to bring home a dog that my Dad already did not want in the house, but that would also take up considerable room.

As L and I were leaving, I paused outside the cat room and asked if we could take a look at their cats. The woman behind the counter said, "Of course. Step right in."

I did and as I rounded the corner to see all the cats, I felt something soft rub my cheek. I whipped around and there he was. Thirteen pounds of delightful fun and love just waiting to come home with me.

His name was Jake, though not for long, and he met all of my requirements for a cat.

See, cats are not like dogs. Cats have these sharp claws that they just randomly whip out and smack you in the face with. I did not want to be sitting, petting a cat and suddenly get smacked in the face by one. It isn't even the concern for the well being of my skin that bothers me so much. It's the fact that I can be holding onto my cat and petting her and she suddenly gets stuck in my shirt. Now, what started out as enjoyable for the both of us has now turned into a stressful situation. I can't scare or hurt her because she'll lean back and claw my eyeball out. It takes me ten minutes to get her out and by the time I do, I end up dropping her down on the ground and she turns around and hisses at me and it's days before we make up.

Basically, I HATE CLAWS! Fuck Jaws. Claws should have been made into a movie about loving, faithful cats that suddenly turn into vicious thugs.

So, like I was saying, Jake met all of my requirments:

1) Declawed: Like I stated above I hate claws and I would have done it to any cat I got. My mom thinks it's cruel and I do feel a bit bad that he had it done, but I am Oh-so-happy I didn't have to do it. Someone else did it for me.

2) Fat: Have you ever seen a skinny cat? They're gross! They look like they have been inflicted with feline AIDS. I wanted a big, fat (not deathly obese, mind you) cat that would sit on my lap while I watched TV. Jake is big (13 lbs). He doesn't look too fat though, he's just a huge cat. My first impression of him was that he must be half panther.

3) He likes me: My cat Cookie only likes my mother and my dog Libby has some long-standing grudge against me. Like I did anything to either of them. So, when I get a cat it has to like me. Jake likes everyone, thus, he likes me.

4) Mellow: I fucking hate skiddish cats. You know the ones that as soon as you look at them they take off at a run and slam into a wall? Well, I do not want to drop 75 bucks on a cat that is going to spend it's time under my bed or in a closet. I want a pet that is going to love me implicitly.

I saw Jake (soon to be John Cleese) and I fell in love.

I BETTER ADOPT HIM SOON!!