Random Esquire

Whenever I mention that I do not like cats, someone will say, “You’d like my cat.”  No, seriously, I probably won’t.

I know that part of this is because a) I’ve never had a cat, b) I’m allergic to them, and c) I don’t know if they have a point.  If I was not allergic, it is possible that I might have learned to like them but I was pretty sure I did not like them before I ever found out I was allergic.  This happened when I went to a date’s home and she had a cat.  When I left a few hours later, I had to pull over on the side of the road to get ill.

Then I dated a woman who had two cats, both of the incredibly, wildly hairy type – what’s that called? Maine coon?  Something like that.  One was named Baby Boy and the other was Finnegan, which she called Finneh.  I saw one of them do something near indescribable to a wall in the house and that convinced me that cats are still wild animals.

Yesterday, I was on the phone with an ex (not Boss) who was trying to coax a cat out from under her car.  She said, “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty…” and she made kissy noises.  I said, “Does that work? Do they respond to that? Actually, do they respond to anything?”  She said, “YES.  I think people just do it all the time so they learn to respond to it.”  I said, “They learn?!”

I’m not entirely opposed to cats.  I might get a cat someday.   Yes, that’s possible.  In fact, the first time I see a cat lead a blind man down the street, I will get one.