The costume you pick for your cat says a lot about you. Yeah, right! you think.
Actually, you’re probably right. Anyhow.
You are looking at one of three cat costumes sold at Petco. One is a dress, the other is a dapper jacket, and this is the Hula Girl Halloween Costume for Cats. No wonder there’s only three cat costumes in the entire store. They don’t know what the hell they’re doing. If you bought this, you probably have 40 million crinkle balls scattered around your house because you have no self-control. I would hate to see what’s in your backup refrigerator in the garage. Anyone who buys this should be thrown out of Petco.
You live for Halloween. You’ve spent months designing this … this … torture device you jacked your cat into like you were stuffing sausages. What kind of person puts a cat in a costume he can’t remove in 10 seconds? You see the cat licking his paw? That’s the equivalent of an ultimate fighter playing a video game and sipping a Red Bull before a match. Things are about to get real.
When you look at your cat you see a sleek, leonine creature, with a bit of a wild side, a devilish streak that you sometimes meditate on as you’re drifting off to sleep after watching The Good Wife. Wait — is a frog sexy? You bet your bippy it is, to a cat. Cats have a thing for frogs, you tell yourself as you purr at your cat, telling her what a sexy thing she is, sitting there sadly in this frog costume you found on Etsy.
You remember all those wicked girls in high school laughing at your homemade ladybug costume.
So, lets see, it’s Halloween night, you’re three haunted gins to the wind, and you’ve just discovered — ye gods! — that you haven’t dressed up the cat. The cat tenses, disappears under the bed as you scour the room for a cat costume. You don’t have one. You don’t have much of anything, actually. You’re down to the cat, a bag of sweatpants, and some old board games you’re trying to sell on eBay. The cupboard lies bare, except for a crumpled bag of stale bread. You reach for it, remembering a time when you were dialed in, when you knew about memes, when you had friends, when you had a job … and you quietly affix a slice to the cat.
You know what’s scary to a cat. It’s the same thing that’s scary to you. Work. A job. Punching the clock day in and out until you get kicked to the curb like all the other working stiffs. It’s a good thing neither of you work, unless you call looking for sunny spots and reading the neighbor’s newspaper “work.”
You can’t leave well enough alone, can you? You always have to push and push and push until you’ve destroyed everything around you, and your cat is tucked deep in the far corner under the bed with his beautiful Halloween cat claws. You’re very pleased with how they turned out, the oranges and blacks glinting off the beam of the flashlight as you shine it under the bed. It’s been a long night, and you’ll need to start rebuilding trust first thing in the morning, so you better just go to sleep, okay? Okay.
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