The big question around Casa de SJ was whether the hated, vicious, despicable terrorist, bad orange cat, was stupid enough to allow itself to be caught again. This morning, we have an answer.
This does not, of course, answer the overarching question about what I plan to do with the cat. For reasons that make my head hurt, many of you assumed I was seeking advice on how to either eradicate the “vermin,” turn it into my own precious pet or otherwise rid myself of this meddlesome cat. I was not.
To the extent the advice applied to my circumstances (does anyone consider that life at Casa de SJ may differ slightly from wherever the hell you live?), which wasn’t much frankly, thank you for your interest in being helpful. But helpful advice wasn’t sought or needed. I knew the solution; it was the execution. Or to put it more bluntly, I have no plan to kill a cat, even if you see no reason not to. That just ain’t me. Sorry. Call me a wuss. I can take it.
Anybody who lives far away from me want a free cat?
Only kidding. I know what I will do, and it won’t involve the humane course of neutering and returning him to Casa de SJ where I don’t want this orange cat, nutless or otherwise. And there’s no alternate society of kindness to feral critters who will take him in and envelope him with love and carbon monoxide.
Nor do I have a gun, though a BB gun still seems like a handy thing to keep around the house. As does a green laser pointer, for fun with cats if nothing else.
And cat will remain outside, as he’s always been, because nobody wants him inside the house. We’re not pet people, cat, dog or miniature horse. You are? That’s nice. Don’t care.
I know what I must do. I will toughen up and do it. It will be done.