Two Pussy Lovers in a Pod

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

Synchronized stool sitting.

Ring of fire.

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.

Close.

Closer.

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!

Key West Clicks

Oh the perks of a beach vacation…

Being the lucky gal that I am, saying yes to a trip to Key West for a break in the dreary Tennessee weather was not a hard decision. What does one do while on the way to a beach destination?

Greet lunch with a fruity cocktail, naturally.

Vacations require cocktails at all times.

What better way to prepare your bod to slip into a bikini than to stuff your face with fresh crab claws and french fries?

Thank God swimsuits contain elastic.

Instead of racing into lycra, I thought about being tied up and roasted for someone else’s dinner after all of the noontime sodium collected in my gut.

CBXB hog roast.

Checking into the hotel, I could hardly wait to see where I’d be sipping my morning Bloody Mary’s…

Balcony fail.

But the view from my vacation porch didn’t really matter much because I immediately planted my crab claw happy ass here…

Successful view.

After a hard day soaking up the sun, it was time to research the Key West nightlife. I had a difficult time deciding if this particular bar would be a good choice or not…

Should I stay or should I go now?

After an evening filled with Skinny Pirates, a sunset and me remaining fully clothed I decided to detox with yoga on the beach the next morning.

Namaste.

Practicing yoga under palm trees with the sound of ocean waves in the distance sounded to good to be true.

Little slice of paradise.

And anything that sounds too good to be true usually is, right?

TRUTH.

Because just as the few folks who were ferocious enough to put their vacay hangovers aside and partake in yoga we were greeted with this unsightly horror…

Fucking seriously.

And while you may be thinking what’s wrong with a baby at beachside yoga (aside from everything), there’s something even more wrong with the fact that there were two (yes TWO) Pomeranian puppies in that stupid stroller (I say this as an animal lover) that did nothing but whine, whine, whimper, bark and whine every other second for the full hour.

The pups resembled Ted’s adorable buddy Nigel above but quickly turned into the most heinous dogs ever with their incessant noise.

There’s nothing more relaxing than concentrating (bark) on perfecting (whine) a plank (bark bark) with two (whimper whimper whimper) upset dogs. What made these little fur balls even more annoying?  The fact that both their humans completely ignored their yammering while they were doing downward dogs. Yes, parents can make even the most adorable kids ugly to others. Congratulations to the vacationing idiots.

After the most non-relaxing hour of yoga in history, I started in on the day’s real matter of business.

Driven to drink by dogs and stupid humans.

So I parked it on my favorite lounge chair to begin the day’s vacation festivities.

Why can’t reading by the pool while sipping cocktails be a real job?

I would be a star employee.

Although I could never keep the fruit attached to the rim of my glass.

Lime fail #27.

I would probably be the first employee ever to be fired from beachside lounging with cocktails…

No moonshine on the beach? Oops.

One of the best features of Key West is being able to stroll along the street, stop into bars and carry cocktails down to the Sunset Pier.

See ya tomorrow.

I thought the next best thing to the sunset was a band (that didn’t play anything other than Phish songs – a fail in my book) that had a dog on stage. Seeing this chillaxin’ canine melted any animosity I held against the entire species due to those yapping yoga puppies.

Can I have your dog? Please?

Watching sunsets and admiring dogs can leave one famished, so naturally you must cram your face full of swimsuit busting food.

Working on my bikini body.

Then have a nightcap (or three) at the World’s Smallest Bar.

Seriously. That tiny.

And because even in flip-flops my feet ache after walking 10 too many steps, I jumped at the first chance I could to cruise in the most gorgeous cab I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Can you drive me back to Nashville?

You know you’ve had a fabulous trip when this is how you feel about returning to ‘real’ life…

Why do vacations have to end?

If anyone is looking for a sidekick for their next beach getaway, holla at me!  I’m an expert at drinking in the sun…

CBXB