Photographs in this post by Elizabeth West
I took Psycho Kitty to the vet this morning—it was time for a couple of her shots. Plus, she’s had trouble with her mouth. She needs a tooth pulled. It’s going to cost $150, plus all the soft food I have to feed her until then. Stupid cat.
I’ve posted her here before. You may also recognize her as Patio Cat, to whom I like to randomly attribute quotes now and then.
I didn’t really want a kitty. She belonged to my former neighbors across the street, whose mama cat hid her as a kitten, so she didn’t get socialized to people. The two of them hung out at my house a lot because my yard is fenced (and safe). I took care of them during the ice storm in 2007, after which Mama Cat ran off and Psycho Kitty did not.
The following summer, my neighbor’s nephew knocked on my door. When I answered, he handed me a letter from their vet stating it was time for her shots, and said “Congratulations, you have a cat!” Thanks a lot.
Those neighbors have since moved. Their former home became Meth House, and now it’s generally known as Shithole.
I managed to tame Psycho Kitty down somewhat, but she is still terrified of everyone but me and my next-door neighbor, who feeds her when I am out of town. She is an outside cat. I fixed her up with a little plastic doghouse, which gets stuffed with fleece blankets and insulated in the winter.
If she would just come inside, all her troubles would be over, but she HATES it. She’ll come in the garage, but if you shut the door, she freaks. I have to feed her inside a large cardboard box in the winter so she is out of the wind. She also has an old pillow bed in my storage shed.
She likes to hide in the culvert pipe out front when it’s extremely hot (and when someone is mowing). Sometimes, I’ll come home and she’ll be sprawled on the ornamental gravel next to the front door, where it’s shady and cool.
Psycho Kitty isn’t engaging all the time like Maru. I’m lucky to catch her doing anything cute. She does have a few toys. If I try to play with her, she’ll stare at the toy and at me as if we’re both from Mars. Once in a while, I can get some action out of her.
Here is a video of her playing. Sadly, she lost that ball last winter—I think she really liked it.
She’s such a scared, confused kitty. If you move anything around outside, she freaks. If I wear any shoes outside except the Crocs I run around the yard in, she freaks. If I bend over her with my hair hanging loose, she freaks. I swear, this cat is the biggest chicken on earth.
For her, a good day is a delicious kibble breakfast at 6:00 am. (or whenever Mom gets up on the weekend), then lounging around until I either get home from work or am done farking around at 5:30 or 6:00 pm. Then dinner, preferably Blue Buffalo canned cat food or Fancy Feast Restaurant-style entrees. Then running around the yard all night, perhaps into the neighbor’s yard, or hunting bugs on the patio.
Once in a while, she’ll kill a bird or a mouse. I find these offerings discarded on the patio. She rarely eats them, although one day a couple of weeks ago I caught her devouring a bird. The other day, she left me an entire mole. How she got that one, I’ll never know; it was huge.
Despite her foibles, she’s a pretty good kitty. Having a pet hasn’t turned out too badly for either of us.