Vagabonds: Anthology of the Mad Ones Vagabonds Vol. 3 | Page 60

Goddamn Asshole Cats
David Novak
So.
I was telling a buddy of mine about this problem I got.
“You see,” I was telling him, “I got this problem. There’s this cat. And this cat, it’s living
in the same apartment as me. It’s been living there for a long time, too, way before I
bought the place.
“And this cat?
“It’s a real goddamn asshole.
“And not in the normal, everyday kind of ‘yeah, of course it’s an asshole, it’s a cat, all
cats are assholes but at least you don’t have to pick up their shit.’ When I say asshole, I
mean that this cat is a real, certifiable asshole. Because this cat, it attacks me all the time.
For no reason. It starts every morning, right before my alarm clock goes off. It’ll jump up
on my bad and scratch me right in the goddamn face. And it keeps on scratching me all
day after that. I’ll be in the bathroom shaving, and it’ll take a swipe at my neck. I’m tying
my shoes, it’ll jump up on my shoulders and start at the back of my head. I’m eating
breakfast, and it jumps in my bowl of cereal, ruins that, and starts swiping at my face. In
the middle of the night, I’ll be right about to fall asleep, like right on the cusp, and again,
same thing. And this one time, I was on the toilet -”
“Yeah, I get it,” my friend says. “What’s the point?”
“Well, the point is, I’m tired. I can’t get any rest, I’m always so damn afraid. I’m at my
wit’s end here. At the end of my rope, reaching the last straw, I’m -”
“Again, I get it.” My friend takes a sip of his beer and smiles at me, all reassuring-like,
like he was the absolute expert on cats and asshole cats in particular. “So let me guess.
You want to know what you should do.”
“Exactly.”
“It’s easy. Cat scratching you too much? Just get another cat.”
“Another cat?” I ask.
“Yup. Another cat.”
“As in a replacement for this cat, you mean?”
“No,” he says, “I mean, as in a second cat.”
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