Irish the Cat

I do not like cats.

I have two.

Their names are Irish and Pele.

To be fair, Pele is not my cat. My husband owned Pele before we got married. She is a step cat, if you will. And she is not too bad. Half feral, she stays away from me and the kids. She only tolerates my husband because he brings her food. So I don't have to worry about her too much.

I wish I could say the same for Irish.

Irish is about 8 years old. For the first 5 1/2 years, I didn't have have a problem with her. I got her because I was living in an apartment and wanted a pet, but you couldn't have dogs in my apartment complex. And it wasn't so bad. She was independent but would tolerate my loving administrations when I needed someone to love. And when she wanted to cuddle at night she could do so without waking me up. It was a win-win.

Then I had kids.

Irish does not like my children.

She shows me this by peeing on my bed. And their beds. And my couch. And my carpet. And anything else that is bloody difficult to clean.

At first I thought she was sick. $300 later, the vet told me that she is just temperamental, and offered to write her a prescription for Prozac, which would have been an additional $100. Putting a cat on antidepressants seemed extreme, so my husband and I didn't do it. I did think about it though.

It has gotten to the point where I can't handle it anymore. Every day I come home and there is a new urine spot on my bed and I SWEAR the cat is smirking at me. SEE?!?!

So my husband and I decided that we would try to find her a new home, one without children, where she will be happy. We don't want to drop her off at the pound because we are afraid she will be euthanized.

Yeah, no one wants an 8 year old cat who is purposely incontinent.

So my frustration has been building and my washing machine has been working overtime. It's gotten to the point where I can't even look at the cat without snarling under my breath.

Of course, recently I have had to reevaluate the whole Find The Cat A New Home Mission. See, my 2 1/2 year old has a tendency to climb into bed with my husband and me. And Irish normally sleeps between the two of us. Which means my daughter has been cuddling Irish every night. And she has decided she likes Irish.

No, she loves that damn cat.

My daughter sneaks into my room when she isn't supposed to in order to hug Irish and kiss her. She wants Irish to sleep with her. She cries when Irish runs away from her. She brings Irish food. And yesterday she told me, "Mommy, I love Iwish. Iwish is my kitty cat. I keep her."

So now we have to keep the damn cat.