Cuddles the Unkillable Cat

Hello, again, my loyal friends and admirers and anyone who stumbled across this blog on accident while looking for porn, how are you this evening?  I'm still in beautiful Ohio, staying with my Aunt Nancy and Uncle Buck and hearing all sorts of family tales, most of which I dare not share with you lest someone panic and call Homeland Security*.  

Tonight's post is dedicated to a rather remarkable person and all around cool cat, Cuddles!

Do not be alarmed:  this cat is not dead.

Now, I know that Cuddles doesn't look like much.  In fact, she looks like even less in person.  This cat, not to put too fine a point on it, has two feet in grave, which is quite a lot considering that she only has three legs.

I have known Cuddles for many years, and there was a time when she was a fat, sleek, fluffy cat who loved to curl up on any lap in the immediate vicinity.  That was, alas, many years ago, and when I arrived at my Aunt Nancy's house this week and settled myself on her lovely new sofa, I was shocked--nay, horrified--when this fur-covered bag of bones jumped awkwardly onto my legs and demanded attention.  My first reaction, in fact, was to turn to my Aunt Nancy and protest:  "Why is there a dead cat on my lap?!"

 It turns out that Cuddles, who is seventeen years old this year (which is something like 780 in cat years) is not dead, though she certainly looks and feels like she is except for the part where she breathes and hops around on three legs and meows really, really loudly to be petted or fed.

I guess that doesn't sound very dead, but you have to take my word for it.  Petting this cat is terrifying.  You can feel every elderly bone about to snap under your fingers. 

Nevertheless, she has been to the vet many times, and she's not suffering from anything other than old age.  She can hear and see and hop out to the pond every day.  She knows what she wants and when she wants it, and she will yell very very loudly if she doesn't get it.  Just look at those eyes!

Actually, don't look at those eyes.  They've been freaking me out all week.  My theory is that one of my cousin Beth's dozens of children actually found Cuddles' corpse and buried it in the local pet cemetary, and Cuddles came back and is now a zombie cat.

Sleeping or dead?  Hard to tell

My cousin Bekah (the lovely and deadly) wants me to point out that Cuddles has had a rough life.  When she was rescued from the animal shelter, she was the worst looking cat in the place, full of fleas and worms and probably severe psychological problems.  And after they brought her home, she got caught up a tree for days where she was covered with horrible tree sap.  And then she caught an upper respiratory infection that usually kills cats, and indeed the flies came and hovered around her expecting her to die.  But she pulled through all of that, only to have her foot cut off in a car engine.  And she survived that to go on to a long, long life full of lots of pettings and food and snuggles.

So, all-in-all, Cuddles has had a long, adventurous life, and she should be admired for the way that she slowly, slowly hops along the fence in the backyard, under the watchful eye of Lucy the dog.  Or the way that she can survive evenings outside among the coyotes and badgers and unicorns, all of which clearly want nothing to do with taking on this grand old lady.

Of course, what she does not deserve is for some asshole who has seen too many zombie movies to make fun of her on the internet.   Thank goodness that could never happen.

*Please do not call Homeland Security.  They won't find it funny, and neither will any of us.  Especially me.