Post-Modern Drunk: I Am Alone
I am alone.

Oh, not completely alone. My girlfriend is away for the week. I can deal with that. I've been alone before.

But not like this.

Not with five insane cats.

We had one cat. That was nice.

Then I came home drunk one night, and there was this beautiful stray by the take-out place.

And then we had two cats.

And then my girlfriend's ex- had to give up the cat that they'd had together.

And then the beautiful stray from the take-out place turned out to be pregnant. And in due time she gave birth to two beautiful kittens, who we have taken care of for the last nine weeks.

We are now prepared to give them away. If you know anyone who wants to adopt two adorable and friendly kittens, please, let me know.

Because I am alone. I am the only human in this apartment, with five cats. By any standard, I am a crazy cat person. I am in the main room with two cats who rarely get along, one who keeps going into the bathroom so we can let her drink from the faucet, while the other just sulks around and vomits on the floor from time to time.

And there's the room. Separated off from the others, filled with two kittens who haven't learned to use the litter box before, and the beautiful stray who is going into heat again. The weird baying, like the bastard child of an infant and a beagle. She is ripping up the carpet. She is rubbing up against everything she can. She has been driven mad by sexual desire. Her sexual desire, that is. I'm not that crazy of a cat person.

This is the point where I am supposed to make a joke. But there's nothing funny about a cat driven insane by sexual desire. None at all.

It is driving me crazy.

It is driving me to drink.

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