Roommate’s cats

A couple of weeks ago I moved into a townhouse. I like the place, but my roommate has four cats, which is ludicrous. When you open a cupboard, often a cat will bound out from it onto your head. I am constantly waking up in the middle of the night to find that my pillow isn’t a pillow at all, but yet another cat. I’d swear there were about eleven or twelve cats, but I know for a fact that there’re only four because I made a list:


This is the token “fatty” of the group. He’s also batshit crazy. He sits there meowing at the wall for no reason while flipping his head around in a circle. One time he was sitting in the bathroom sink when I needed to brush my teeth and I couldn’t get him to leave, so I turned on the water in an attempt to flood him out. He just sat there in the sink with the scalding hot water coming down on him, purring like a complete moron.

When you crinkle up a piece of paper, Pete will come running toward you from any room in the townhouse. If you throw the paper, he will dart after it and carry it around in his mouth as if he’d caught a mouse. Then he will actually bring it back to you and drop it, awaiting your next throw. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a fetching cat. In my opinion this is the only cat of the four that should be fed every day.

I can’t stand this cat Charlie. The other cats hate him, too—whenever they see Charlie they tackle the shit out of him, causing him to scamper away. They don’t have any idea why they hate Charlie, and neither do I. All I know is that for some reason every time I see him, the thing I want most in the world is to punt him like a football.

Until recently this cat and I got along very well. He mostly minded his own business and that was fine by me. I had been warned he had a habit of humping a particular stuffed bear, but I figured that what he did in his private life was his own business. Then a few days ago I was in my bedroom reading a book when I casually glanced toward my left. To my horror, there was Bitty, going to town on his bear. He had actually dragged the ratty thing into the only room that was being occupied by a person, as if he was proud of his behavior and wanted an audience. I know Bitty’s just a cat, but that is sick, unconscionable behavior. Since this incident it’s been awkward just being in the same room as Bitty, and if I ever find his little girlfriend in my bedroom again I swear to Christ I’m moving out.

3 thoughts on “Roommate’s cats

  1. I have to comment on this one because I am the lowly roommate who now only has two cats. Two of them, Pete and Charlie, decided that they wanted to stay with my mom. Therefore, Zach and I are living with Bitty (who has taken to Zach like glue) and Ruben, (who as you so eloquently put, is bat shit crazy.) Love you and miss you bunches!

  2. This is my most favorite entry on this site. I lead a busy life, but have managed to find the time to read every entry on this website.
    I have read this one about four times, and I laugh until I’m nearly crying each time.

    When I said I had a busy life I was lying. A lot.

  3. I agree with Radar… for some reason this post is absolutely freaking hilarious, to the point that I actually did cry from laughing by the end of it. I have to deal with two cats at my parents house over the summer (until the end of college), and the two dumbasses fight at random intervals during the day, including 2 AM outside my door.

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