I Might Have To Get Rid of My Cats

They are too loving.

Too sensitive. Too gentle. Too natural.

They put me in an extremely dangerous position.

In this country right now and, presumably, for a while to come, you have to be combative. Fists up. You gotta go to bed wearing brass knuckles, keeping a pistol tucked under your pillow, so that when that alarm goes off you are ready to draw blood.

My cats make me soft. They melt me. They bring out my humanity. Which lowers my defenses. Very dangerous in 2026 because the bubble is about to burst.

It feels good, it feels oh so fucking good to bask in the glow of pure love given and pure love received; it's what pets are all about. One of the finer joys a human can experience. You remember that feeling, right? Being human? Or have you crossed the line into pure hatred or abject fear? Many, if not most of us, have crossed the Rubicon, baby.

Dentists are reaping the benefits of teeth gnashing in the night.

The cats curl up in my lap every night - every night - both of them, making me so warm, so content, so loving. They sleep entwined so tightly that you don't know where one stops and the other begins. I love it.

But I'm not stupid. I sense my vulnerability like a flashing neon sign saying "Kill this man. Beat the shit out of him. He's a pantywaist!" Attracting my enemies like moths to a flame. Those who would kick down my door and drive ice picks into my eyes, for the crime of disagreeing with them. Laughing recklessly as blood drenches my cats. (Sorry for the visual - way over the top - but it makes my point perfectly).

So I watch violent movies to keep me tuned up. Ichi The Killer. A Serbian Film. Reality Killers. Squirming carefully in the recliner (can't disturb the cats), clenching and unclenching my fists, dreaming of knocking teeth down throats. I'm ready, baby - I am fucking ready.

This is not what I want. I'm a sensitive guy. Shit, I have survived so far by drenching everyone I meet in empathy. Even the dull and the ignorant. 

I want to be free to give love and receive love - that's what keeps us alive, you know. But it's not practical any more, and soon it will be illegal.

Oh for Christ sake - Patsy just jumped into my lap. She's looking up at me with her wide, innocent eyes full of love. Purring. Nudging her head into my hand saying "Please love me, please give me some attention." 

I'm melting.

Cue my obituary.