When Chris and I first got married and moved into our rental house, I was terribly lonely on my days off. I had never lived on my own before and it was a very difficult adjustment to go from living with my parents all my life to suddenly living with my new husband in a house that wasn’t really mine yet…you could still smell the fresh paint smell. After several weeks of begging, he finally saw how miserable I was and agreed we could get a kitten, as much as he hated them. A dog would cost to much and would require too much out of us since we were both working full time, but a kitten would be the perfect companion.

Kitty Kitty1We named her Princess Zelda, but I called her Kitty-Kitty. She was my BFF, my companion, I could always count on her to curl up in my lap and just relax. She didn’t beg for food or make a lot of noise. She was friendly and loving, regardless of what Chris will tell you.

We got her in June and found out in August we were pregnant, which means it turned into Chris’ responsibility to clean her litter box…so that means it never got done. I adored her and would constantly remind him that he needed to do it for me, but it never happened. I blame that and his attitude towards for what happened next. My lovely Kitty-Kitty, sweet and loving as could be…
Pua and Kitty Kitty1Started peeing on Chris’ clothes. Now, mind you, this is strange because I did all the laundry the same way. I would bring the basket into the living room and plop down on the floor in front of the tv. She would often times come up and join me, jumping in the basket and swatting at the socks and stings and I put them together. But she never peed on mine, only Chris’. Does anyone else think that’s strange? She only did it a total of three times, the first time I didn’t tell him, just rewashed the clothes. The second time he was with me and I told him I would get her fixed, which would probably help, and if he was nicer to her and cleaned her litter she probably wouldn’t do it anymore. I had set up an appointment to get her fixed and get her shots all up to date, just in case she ran out the house one day. It was all good.

Until Chris had a bad night in January, a week before he appointment. I won’t go into details, but when we got home, he was very upset and very angry. He went to put his jeans back on to go get his cell phone out of the car, they were wet. He smelled them. It was cat pee. He flipped, he was so pissed. He chased her around and underneath the couch. While he was looking for her I managed to coax her out and held onto her crying. Mind you, I was six months pregnant and she was my only friend. I was sobbing. He grabbed her and threw her outside and she ran away. Without being fixed, without her shots, without a tag around her neck indicating where she lived. I was distraught and went home to my parents, sobbing.

As soon as I could manage to explain the story to them, my dad (who is a cat detester, like Chris) put on his clothes and started heading over to my house to find her. He was pissed. Not because Chris threw a cat out, but because he had thrown MY cat out. In January. In the cold. It was horrible, we searched and searched for hours but she was no where to be found. We went up neighboring streets, into the woods behind our house, looked everywhere. I sat outside for hours every night with a small bowl of food, waiting for her to come home for two weeks. Two weeks later, Chris got Linux to make up for the missing cat (I love him, but he is no replacement for my Kitty-Kitty), and a week later, standing outside our front door was my Kitty-Kitty. It took me a couple of days to get her to come to me, and she didn’t want to be an indoor cat anymore, but she would come visit me every night, eat and cuddle with me, and then take leave for the evening.

We continued this until March, when we bought our house and moved onto the next street. I would still go to the old house everyday to feed and visit Kitty-Kitty and had every intention of bringing her back home once the moving was completed and everything with the baby (who I had just given birth to) settled down. The day I went to go get her to bring her to her new home, she was gone. I came back every day until someone new moved into the house but I never saw her again. Never got to take her home. It still breaks my heart, and sometimes when I think I see her on our way home, I start to cry. It’s been a year and six months since it happened and I haven’t let him live it down. I don’t think I ever will, and he knows it. And that’s just one reason why I love him.


5 Responses

  1. Dude…I am so sorry. That’s terrible. I found a stray cat once and kept him. He loved me, I loved him. Some of our neighbors had been packing their car to go out of town and had their door open to their house. Baby decided she would look around and ended up getting locked in that house alone with no food and the neighbors were gone for a WEEK. When they got back they found a horrified sick cat and let him out. THEY KNEW IT WAS MY CAT and instead of bringing him home they just let him out the door. I never saw him again. ::sighs::

  2. Cats (and husbands) are weird beasts.

    I had a cat named Marzen who preceded the birth of both of girls. He was all kinds of angry to be demoted when my first daughter was born, but he adjusted. When my second daughter was born? He took action.

    The cat peed on the baby’s clothes, her toys, her mat, and even in her crib.

    That last one was the last straw. We found him another home with no babies. Just one old lady who was wiling to love him and only him.

    I loved the cat, but he was right in the end.

    He didn’t matter as much as the girls.

    Which is why he was so angry. Sigh.

    • I get why my husband wanted her gone, and I was cool with that. The part that bothered me was that he couldn’t wait a couple more days to let me get her fixed, and he threw he out because he was angry. But not at me and not at the cat, at someone else and we just got the brunt of it.
      But if the baby had come along and she did that shit? She’d be gone pretty damn quick.

  3. Hi Pua,

    Our circumstance for getting the first of our cats was similar to yours. I don’t hate cats, but I didn’t grow up with pets, so I was unaccustomed to having them around. I’ve never been mean to them, but I don’t cuddle with them either. We sort of just coexist. We now have three (and have buried two others in the yard), so there have been cats in my home for many years.

    They’ve done a lot of damage to the front door and some of the trim in the house, which pisses me off when I notice it, but that’s about it for the downside. My wife and daughters love the cats, so my only real option was to share our space.

    I wrote a post about our odd coexistence on the occasion of the first cat’s passing in February: Norman Was Here

    I’m sorry that, in the end, you lost kitty-kitty, and I suspect that, upon reflection, your husband regrets his actions. Ray

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