Squooshable

Today I met Squooshable.

I was leaving Eviljob and walking all the way out to East Egypt to get into my car, when I passed by this "lowrider" type of car belonging to another employee that was all "hispanic-ed out"--you know, crap dangling from the rear view mirror, low to the ground, shiny tinting...the whole nine yards.

And no, I'm not prejudiced, but I think it's just silly.

Butsoanyway.

As I passed this car, I heard a cry for help. Or it might have been saying "hi!" Regardless, I heard it.

Ok, so I heard a cat. Mewping. A lot.

I tried to find the source of the sound, and it was coming from this car! From the trunk! I was fishing in my purse for my cell phone as I swore at the son of a bitch that had put one of the strays in their trunk; I was working myself up into a fury! I was going to call the police, and the ASPCA, and find out whose car it was and have them terminated... And then I was going to key the car and beat them up! How dare they trap a cat in their trunk?!?

Before I made an *absolute* ass of myself (ummm...yeah; I'm clued in to the fact that I sometimes think the worst of people), I decided to make only a minor fool of myself, and get down on my hands and knees and double-check underneath the car. I'd leaned over and seen nothing, but that's not thorough. So I got down and looked underneath--no cat.

And then it went Mewp! almost right in my ear.

I realised that it was somehow up in the car; you hear all the time about kittens crawling up into car engines and stuff...I figured that this was what had happened, only in the back of the car. So I tried to slide under the car to look as much as possible, and saw something moving in the wheel well, on top of the tire--something dark.

Augh. As if I didn't look foolish enough already.

So I had to wedge my right arm and shoulder up under the car and around the tire to fish blindly in the wheel well. And all the while, this cat was mewping its little heart out. I was glad I thought to leave my coffee cup and case on their car where if the owner came out to leave, they would see it, because if they jumped in and pulled off, I'd be without a cat *and* a right arm. Finally I managed to grab something on the little thing and tried to gently slide it down around the tire without banging it into anything, or poking its eyes out.

This is not an easy thing to do, by the way.

Finally I got it out! And it was small! A tiny black kitten with blue-grey eyes, and...no tail! Well, a stub of a tail. And it had eyeboogers, and crap in its ears, and was crawling with huge fleas! And still mewping at me!

"What were you doing up there," I asked it, "you could have been clobbered if someone had decided to drive off!"
"Nope," it said, "I'm rough and tough, and Indestructible! Invincible maybe, even!"
"You are not ever. You're Squooshable."
"Am not!"
"Are too."
"Not!"
"Are."

I decided to take Squooshable with me. I mean, what else could I do--leave it there? It thinks it is Indestructible, Invincible maybe even, and climbs up into the wheel wells of lowriders.

I'm temporarily calling it Squooshable, hoping that it will take the clue.

I took it home and bathed it in Joy to kill the fleas, 'cos it's too young to have any insecticides on it. The first two latherings rinsed black--so black I was half afraid the cat would turn out to be white, or something! And we talked the whole time!

"I think I'm washing all your black off, Squooshable"
"Indestructible!"
"You wish."

Then I tried to feed it, but I didn't have any soft food left. And it even though it drank water and ate a couple pieces of dry food, he (he's a boy) kept trying to nurse me--my chin, neck, arm, fingers... I knew he was trying to nurse, 'cos it's the same thing Puff did ever since she was a baby. My son-friend was coming over to take me with him to exchange a razor I bought a few months ago for him (bless Bloomies and their way-too-lenient exchange policies), so I put Squooshable in a carrier and told son-friend that we were stopping at the pet store for cat milk. I took Squooshable in with me, and the lady there said Squoosh is about six weeks old. :-) So we got the cat milk and soft food, and went back to the car, where I set up food in the carrier.

Turns out that Squooshables like cat milk. And soft food. A lot.

So Squooshable gorged himself tremendously and then passed out. He was in the carrier, so we left him there (yes, windows cracked, plus it was only like low-70's with no sun today & son-friend's car is tinted) while we went into Bloomies to exchange the razor. Sucker that I am, I let son-friend trade up and paid an extra $80. What a moron I am. Oh, well.

When we came out, Squooshable was still asleep and I was feeling nice, so we went to another store and I bought a weird digital Kenneth Cole watch for him. Well, he really wanted it, and he did a great job on the back door, and I'm just a sucker, plus I owe him for ignoring him kind of these past two months. Whatever. It made him happy, and that's what matters. I was starting to worry about Squooshable when we got out of that store, so I made him stop in the parking lot and checked--Squooshable deeply resented being awakened, and fussed at me. Or said "hi, Mom". It's hard to tell.

So I figured Squoosh was ok and we went to grab something to eat, since I realised that I hadn't eaten all day. With the exception of his girlfriend calling five times, it wasn't a bad dinner. Girl-friend of son-friend felt the need to call five times because she likes drama, and desperately wants me to have a brick fall on my head and decide to try to steal son-friend away from her, or fuck him, or something.

Can you say "Eew" boys and girls? I know you can.

This is mega-retarded of g-f of s-f on more levels than I care to think about, but I'll visit it here for a sec: (1) we're just friends; (2) we're...ummm...different. Different in interests, education, money, background--you name it, we're different in it. It's a dumb idea if it were an idea, which it isn't, because people have to have *something* in common to have that kind of a connection. These differences make for interesting conversation, but anything other than friendship is out of the question; (3) The feelings just aren't there. Anyone who has ever had an opposite-gender sibling would get that. Some things just ain't a-gonna happen, folks. Not even after a nuclear war; (4) As much as it pains me to admit it, I have to have respect for someone I'm sleeping with, even if it's just a fuck-buddy thing. I'm not saying I don't respect son-friend, but... It's not the kind of respect I would have to have to do the deed. He has too many problems (mental, physical, financial, educational, career-wise) for me to have the genre of respect I would have to have for this to even be a question, much less an answer.

Ok, so those are my reasons. G-f of s-f's reasons for not understanding or believing this are (1) I've never explained it to her, because (a) she's never broached the subject with me; (b) getting that bimbo to understand something that contains actual thought, well... I'd probably have an easier time getting her to understand the epsilon-delta definition of a limit; at least that has diagrams I can draw for visual assistance.

Ok, so I'm a bitch. I'm also honest, even if it hurts.

(2) is that she is a total drama queen herself. I don't think she's comfortable when she's not stealing a man, or having one thefted, or some kind of Jerry Springer-worthy drama that involves screaming, crying, and throwing things. Probably ideally whilst in a house which is on wheels. :-) I don't get Ladies Like Her. (3) She's the type that is jealous of my type Just Because. And no, I'm not giving myself an ego blowjob. I run into this type occasionally. Maybe someday I'll figure it out because, from my perspective, there's nothing to be jealous of here. Would that I were, I'm not that great. I had one of Her Ilk theft a guy I was dating once. When I gave up and let him go, she decided she didn't want him anymore. Heh. Neither did I, much to his dismay. Teach you, buttmunch betrayer.

Ok, enough of g-f of s-f's reasons; they're enthralling, but I must simply tear myself away and continue.

So we ate, and every ten-to-fifteen minutes g-f of s-f would call. Sigh. I didn't give him any shit about it, because he was bound to get enough from her when he came home because I'd bought stuff for him including dinner, and given him money. Her biggest problem with this is that I don't do it for her too, is what I'm thinking. Well, I've bought her *scads* of dinners, and if he and she didn't live across town and she was way over there while he was over here, and she didn't have a problem driving after dusk because it gives her anxiety attacks and then she has to take Klonopin and then that makes her too sleepy to drive...

...did I mention she just loves that drama?

So after dinner, son-friend dropped me off at home and I gave him money to get something for her in the hopes that she'd quit with all the whining. Squooshable let me put him in my hall bathroom without any fuss and when I put him in the litter box, he just sat there--like he was awaiting further instructions. :-) Awww...

Then I got the food & cat milk set up, and he started eating again. I think Squooshable has an eating disorder. I may have to rename him Explodable. And I know I'm pathetic, but it kind of makes me sad, because I'm concerned that these past six weeks haven't been very good ones for Squooshable. I think today is the nicest day Squooshable has ever had. That thought makes me want to cry. Poor Squooshable.

And I need to make sure he doesn't have FeLV, or AIDS, or anything. And then I guess I have to figure out what I'm going to do with Squooshable.

I should give Squooshable to the Pet Rescue people, who will take him and get him neutered and give him his shots and all and then get him adopted. I can't handle three cats; we've already proven that.

But I like Squooshable. And he likes me. And he falls asleep on me and looks cute.

My other two cats hate Squooshable. My oldest has told me several times this evening that I should take Squooshable back to where I found it. :-) In no uncertain terms.

Squooshable, on the other hand, finds my oldest cat fascinating. This irks my oldest cat beyond description. My oldest cat has already taught Squooshable some Dirty Kitty Words.

What to do... What to do...