Intuition. . .

Cats are incredible creatures. Intelligent, sneaky, affectionate and sometimes a downright pain in the butt. The black cat above, Black Kitty, is no exception. He greets me every morning with purrs and guttural meows, crashing his thick head into my ankles for a rub. Today was his big day or at least it was supposed to be.

See, he just showed up one day. Completely feral, untouched and untouchable. I guess he's been living around the house now for almost 9 or 10 months and it's just been in the last couple that he has allowed anyone to touch him. He is the lap cat of all lap cats now with a complete and full undertanding of the power of the human hand.

And much to the chagrin of Bobcat. . .


. . .I'd like for Black Kitty to become a part-time inside cat like Bobcat is. Only one problem: big, furry, cat balls.

For those of you who've never owned a cat, let alone a male cat, let me explain. Big, furry, cat balls lead to one thing and one thing only, well two things, but thankfully Bobcat is fixed.

Big, furry, cat balls lead to spraying, the instinctual marking of territory by the male. It's not a big deal when it's on a bush or the hedges, it's another when he splatters your couch. It doesn't stink in the normal sense of the word. It's stink like the stink has been distilled, refined, pressurize under the graviational pull of Jupiter, ionized, ozonated, concentrated, fermented, agitated and just for good measure, if you could piss off stink, this is what pissed off stink would smell like.

In a word, bad.

So today, Black Kitty was going to the vet for big, furry, cat ball removal surgery.


I bought a brand new pet carrier and everything. I had it all planned out, except for one thing. Cat intuition.

This is the first morning in months that Black Kitty has not been on the porch waiting for me. I suspect that he knew, he somehow understood that his big, furry, cat balls were hanging in the balance. Bastard!

I'll get you and your big, furry, cat balls tomorrow buddy!