Back in college, I lived with a bunch of roommates. One girl was a Hooters (TM) waitress, the other was between jobs and the last guy was in a band.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but looking back now, I was definitely a slum lord.
More on this in a later post. Anyway, the aspiring rock-star roommate decided to get a cat. I guess he was nodding to history or something when named the cat Winston (yes, after the little fat man from England). Wife (then girlfriend) and I began taking care of the cat because aspiring rock-star roommate was about as nurturing as a desert.
We showered Winston with love and attention and it pretty soon decided that we were its new masters and the best thing since catnip.
One morning I got up and made my way to the bathroom to take care of business. I thought I had shut the door, but I had not. I look down and see this.
I revert to reflex and orient on the movement below me. It was Winston. He thought my golden stream was a string to play with and was trying to “get it”. I could only imagine what was going through his head.
This was all pieced together in my head in roughly two seconds, but I was still urinating while facing Winston…
I peed all over Winston’s face; right in his big, blue, trusting eyes. Winston ran terrified out of the bathroom and straight to the only person who could save him from such an atrocity. Girlfriend was sleeping peacefully when she was awoken by a soggy kitten. It went something like this.
ME: Oh God…
GIRLFRIEND: Mmmm… Hey Winston. What’s the matter?
GIRLFRIEND: What is that smell? OH MY GOD!!! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO THE CAT?!?!?!?
ME: I pissed on him, but I didn’t-
GIRLFRIEND: WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!?!? WHY ARE YOU SO GODDAMN SICK IN THE HEAD?!?!?
ME: I… I… I have no words…
It took several hours of reassuring to convince my girlfriend that I had not developed a very weird and specific form of sexual deviancy.
We scrubbed and washed Winston thoroughly, after we had burned the bed sheets.
That cat almost cost me my future wife.