How to Piss With Your Pussy

You know you’re a crazy cat lady when you can’t even take a piss without your fur ball in your face.

Dignity in shreds.

Dignity in shreds.

Whenever I come home, I’m greeted by the fluffy little love of my life, Ted and, ever since January the stray we took in, New Cat (Yep – that’s still his name. And yep – the pharmacist still asks about him when I pick up my own prescriptions).

You're home. Now choose.

Good, your home. Now choose.

While Tedstar is used to being my one and only, I tried to make my welcome home a threesome.

Three is definitely a crowd.

Three is definitely a crowd.

So now I’ve resorted to picking up one pussy at a time. Ted is coddled first while New Cat patiently meows as if his claws were being removed with tweezers, having to watch his bro getting some lovin’ before him.

Baby got back.

Always first runner up.

Racing home one day, fearful I might wet my pants before entering my mini manse, I pranced past my pussies at the front door to alleviate my bladder. This was a jeans-zipper-down-from-the-car-carry-your-purse-into-the-bathroom kind of emergency.

Cat Bathroom

And wouldn’t you know, New Cat seized this opportunity to be the first one to mark his territory while I sat on the toilet.

Finally the first to get love.

Finally! The first to get affection.

Mr. Tuxedo went from mauling my chest to manhandling my face.

Toilet kisses

Toilet kisses are just as romantic as they sound.

Then NC decided to try and slip me tongue. I’m his mother and although we live in the South, not appropriate.

Turned into French kisses

This pussy apparently has an Oedipus Rex complex.

Beyond ridiculousl

Madness. Sheer madness.

I shoved New Cat to the ground as I was trying to finish my business and but this little bitch wasn’t taking no for an answer and jumped up into my lap, quickly pretending to be asleep.

Fucking seriously.

Fucking seriously.

In the 27 seconds in which this shit show took place, I realized the magnitude of crazy I’d just achieved.

I was sitting on a toilet.

With a cat molesting me.

While taking a piss.

And I was taking pictures.

Visualizing my headstone..."Cat lady

Taking cray cray cat lady to new heights.

Realizing the seriousness of the situation Mr. Bear came to my rescue, shooing New New off of my lap and into a corner.

GET OUT!

Get the hell out.

Not wanting the action to stop, New Cat zoned in on Ted to continue the affection fest.

Brotherly loved. Forced.

Forced brotherly love.

It’s a good thing we live in the South.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Two Pussy Lovers in a Pod

It’s not every day you go on vacation and meet your soul mate.

Pussy lovers unite!

Pussy lovers unite!

We all know by now that I’m a cray cray cat lady. If you don’t believe me, check out my bawling episode in Ernest Hemingway’s cat cemetery post from last year.

Yep. I did this.

Yep. I did this.

So imagine my delight when I realized there was a living, breathing male pussy loving version of myself when I visited Sunset Pier in Key West.

I knew as soon as our eyes met that he might just be the perfect man for me (I mean, he lives in on the beach and hoards cats like yours truly albeit he’s about 65) as he wrangles seven cats with the ease of me slurping down a Skinny Pirate.

Back in his glory days tempting ladies with that mullet. And that vest.                 photo  catmanofkeywest.com

What’s the most telling sign that we’re meant to be together (besides the fact that his name is Dominique and he speaks with a French accent. *sigh*)?

The fact that he’s known as The Cat Man.

I took this to heart as I was recently bequeathed the nickname of Cat Woman from my pharmacist (after I had to get a prescription filled for a stray cat I’ve taken in and unemotionally lovingly named New Cat – it was a master blaster hearing that name called over the loudspeaker).

Yep. Seriously.

Yep. Seriously.

As I watched The Cat Man prep the fur balls for the upcoming show, I elbowed six-year-olds in the head so as I could score a seat in the front row.

Pussy prep.

Pussy prep.

Clapping among six year olds.

Clapping among toddlers.

What makes The Cat Man ultra impressive is the fact that he can get cats to do tricks…with each other (anyone who’s ever owned a feline knows how cooperative they tend to be).

Pussy whisperer.

Pussy whisperer.

Two at a time.

Synchronized stool sitting.

Fire

Ring of fire.

Teddy has some work to do.

Teddy clearly has some work to do.

What was the shining moment in our budding May-December romance?

Our shared characteristic for the love of a camera. Although I couldn’t really tell if he was flirting with me (and the other 94 peeps that wanted a photo with him) or trying to get rid of my stalking ass after I started to put my arm around him and he said:

“Stay where you are. Go back to your seat,” accompanied by his French accent.

Of course I refused to move without a snapshot of us.

When he caught wind of my cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs mentality over pussies, The Cat Man couldn’t help but lean into my Cat Ladyness and turned me into his own personal Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Lean

Close.

Lean 2

Closer.

Lean 3

My ass almost hit the pavement.

While no phone numbers were exchanged, we promised to meet again.  Well, really I told him I’d stalk see him again when I was back in Key West.

I’m now practicing tricks with Ted and New Cat in the hopes they can perform along with The Cat Man’s crew next year.

Fingers crossed I don’t set my mini manse on fire.

Cheers!

CBXB!