Kitteh Conquest

SO when I moved into my new hole in the wall, 

literally its about that big, 

I decided, hey, I think I want to adopt a kitteh.

I've been thinking about this for a few weeks now, 

being the introvert type I take plenty of time to make any kind of decision.
I'm that person you see comparing shampoos at WalMart.

So naturally the kitteh debate has been on going in my mind for a while.

I've been on something of a Kitteh Conquest across Victoria. 

I went to adopt a pet, to visit their kittehs. 

The Cat Room at adopt a pet was a little depressing, tons of growns up kittehs, all mostly anti social.

I did find one lion looking kitteh in particular that seemed interested in me,

however when I asked about him, I was informed last time he was fostered out he licked himself bald. 

Oh. 

Ok.

No big deal.

So adopt a pet is a no.

I then went to Petsmart. 

These kittehs were much more fun! 

I was finally faced with the delihima I knew I would have to deal with sooner or later.

I want them all.

I can't help it. 

Its my aspiring cat lady instinct.

And even better- all of the kittehs at Petsmart are from the pound, so I will be saving a kitteh life!

I've rested on this knowledge for about a week and half,

 still debating over the timing of purchasing the kitteh, 

because timing is crucial to the introvert.

As of 2 nights ago, timing has gone out the window.

I have to get a cat NOW.

I was laying in bed, after Beth had asked to what extent I had checked out my new neighborhood, because someone could be watching me and I'd never know... thanks for that.

I was just drifting off to sleep as I hear a little crinkle crinkle sound from the other side of my hole.

Crap.

Serial rapist murderer has entered through my invisible door and I am in my underwear. 

There is no way to feel brave in your underwear. 

Unless your Xena

Which I am not.

Anyway, so I flipped on my light, shuffled around for my glasses which are way out of date and creep around my kitchen trying to find whatever is crinkling because its freaking me out.

This is all made better by the fact that I am in fuzzy slippers and my undies, 

and absolultely positive I'm about to get maimed by some form of derranged murderer or mutnant rodent. Well needless to say, I didn't find either, however as I was turning off the light, I saw it.

Tiny, Grey Lightening.

From the table to the fridge.

It has to be a mouse, because roaches will just flip you off and be like 

"What of it, eh?"

They pretty much just laugh at me because I hate the idea of roach guts on any of my shoes.

I know, your thinking that's pathetic, Baylea has no less than well over 100 pairs of shoes.

Walks through horse crap, dances in swamp mud, and prances down dirty 6th street during the South By festivities. 

But roach guts?? I think not. 

Anyway. 

Cut to the next morning, while popping in my contacts, I spot Grey Lighting again. 

Shooting from the fridge to the cabinet. 

And thus, decision made.

I HAVE to get a cat. 

I can't get a mouse trap, mainly because I don't want to deal with a gruesome dead mouse. 

Its absolutely justified to adopt a kitteh to enact Darwinism right at home in my little kitchen.

And its totally more humane to let a kitteh play a mouse to death instead of just snapping its tiny neck in two with a mouse trap. 

In light of this new development I've also had to drastically reconsider my kitteh selection.

I have to get a hood kitteh.

I need a thug life, gangsta kitteh,

tatted up, battle scars, possibly an eye patch.

I need a kitteh off the streets.

I need a kitteh that has lived a hard life, walks with a limp, and packs heat.

I'm going to go to the pound Monday, and find a kitteh on death row.

I'm gonna go get a pissed off kitteh, bring it home and not feed it till it brings me a mouse.

Gangsta kitteh will understand. 

Kitteh bettah work fo dat bread.

I'm looking for something like this...