This is an actual sentence I said last week.

“Hey Keith, my kitten ate Jen’s roses and puked all over your invitation. Could you give me directions to your baby shower again?”

I’m going to table the fact that I attended a coed baby shower for a little while so I can introduce you to the reason I show up to work with scratches all over my forearms and face. That would be Poe, the little kitten that I decided to plague our perfect happy home with. She’s apparently a “Russian Blue” breed, which is odd since she’s completely grey. And her eyes are yellow. And she’s from Jessup.

So I’m not necessarily a cat person at all. Which is another way of saying I’m straight. And yet, some impulse I had made the decision to add another cat to our 11th floor apartment.

Oh yeah. We already have another cat. Oh, and I moved in with Jen. There. Now you’re caught up.

So the main problem isn’t with the kitten, but it’s with her interaction with the 22-pound beast which Jen keeps trying to convince me is a cat. See, Poe likes to play and Sweetie (fat cat) is old and prefers to lay there and be left alone. Well, anytime Sweetie gets up to go anywhere, Poe will run behind her, jumping and swatting at her tail the entire way like it was a toy. As you can imagine, this pisses off the big cat. Especially when trying to use the litter box. As soon as Poe hears the scratching of the litter, she goes running after her. So what this caused is that now, Sweetie feels so much anxiety over going to the litter box, she will more often than not, shit on the wood floor. This does not make me happy. But think about it. If every time you went to the bathroom to crap, your little sister would hit you in the ass, wouldn’t you just do it wherever the heck you were at the time?

Anyway, an unfortunate side effect to this is that dried poop seems to be the most fun toy in the world to the kitten, provided there’s no chapstick available. So occasionally, we’ll move the couch to find a few pieces of dried, hardened Sweetie poop. It’s a sad life to have accepted for the three of us that aren’t Poe. I wish whatever part of me said “I’m not a cat guy” had spoken up louder back in April.