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| Ah, The Monk The Ott Family was never a cat family. So, as an adult, it never occured to me to ever get a cat, though I had nothing against them, personally. But, one day, in July of 2000, a little gray kitten followed Kim into the Haddon House building, and right down the hallway to my desk. The kitten jumped up and gave me a head-butt. Everyone roared and said I had to keep her, that she chose me. I light-heartedly laughed them off, saying I had a dog who wouldn't go for it, and a landlord who wouldn't go for it, and absolutely no experience with cats. However, it was decided, by the kitten, and the five women standing around me, that I had no say in the matter. The cat was obviously going to go home with me whether I wanted her or not. And at 5 p.m., I had a box with a kitten in it, along with bags and bags of toys, food, litter and other cat accessories, given to me by my co-workers who picked the stuff up at lunchtime for me. I've learned since then that all kittens are a lot of work, but Monkey was a demon kitten. Monkey destroyed my plants and shit and pissed in their dessecrated remains. Monkey shit and pissed in my truck on nearly every occasion I needed to transport her. Monkey climbed the curtains and wall decorations, ripped the screens; got into the the dishwasher, dryer, hanging plants. She'd stare at the ceiling fan for long periods of time, dreaming, I know, of its demise. Monkey did not let me sleep for more than three hours in a row on any given night, attacking my feet, though sometimes my head, and usually made me bleed. Living with the young Monkey was a nightmare. But, for whatever reason, she adored Lacey. When Glen came along, he told me he wasn't much of a cat person. Which, well, I do understand. After all, I come from a long line of people who aren't cat people. But Monkey was definitely all about Glen. She'd stare affectionately at him while he slept, purring loudly right over his face, night after night after night. Glen got very little sleep, and was cranky. Frankly, while I more or less understood what it feels like to be tired from a bad Monkey night, I knew it could be much worse: he could wake up with bloody toes. But Monkey's affection was taking its toll on Glen's good cheer: he'd wake up miserable, and call Monkey every name in the book. He mooned her, gave her the finger, and complained to his co-workers. All of whom told him we had to get another cat. It seemed like ridiculous advice to us, so we ignored them until Glen was about to lose his mind. So Simon came along in July of 2002. Monkey hid in the basement for a month, and when she finally emerged, she was too busy with Simon to bug Glen any more. |
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