Do you know what Substack is? It’s a newsletter/blogging platform that lets CrEaToRs charge for subscriptions to their content. I’ve recently wanted to start writing more (trying to dust off some of these brain cells know what I mean) and I thought it’d be good to have a fresh start, maybe encourage me to write more. So I made a free Substack and wrote some stupid shit about my cat and shared it with my mom and my mom only.

And thank gourd for that because twasn’t free at all! They tried to charge my mom $8/month! To read a few dumbass paragraphs about how my cat pisses me off! Substack is the equivalent of those point of sale machines that ask you for a $5 tip on a $4 pastry. We all agree those blow, right? Those touchscreens every restaurant/store uses now? I used to like putting a buck or two in a little glass tip jar, but I am HIGHLY AGGRIEVED whenever I’m asked for a 30% tip because some dude passed me an empty coffee cup.

Anyway, I do pay for a couple Substack subscriptions—mainly Samantha Irby’s, the greatest writer and thinker of this and any generation—but the idea that anyone would pay $8 A MONTH for my nonsense is truly unthinkable. So here, have it for free. Read about my stupid cat.

My stupid cat

His name is Sunny or Sonny, depending on his mood (this is according to Curtis). We mostly call him Cat or Skittery Jones/Skittery Snicket.

I wanted to get a cat for years but it always seemed like dumb thing to do. Now, after having Sunny for 6 months, I can confirm I was right. Pretty dumb! He’s adorable and I love him, but he’s also a mewing hairy butthole that attacks me with his razorblade claws and teeth every chance he gets.

We tried to keep him an indoor cat but he protested (and escaped constantly), so now he goes out every day and stalks our yard and woods for all variety of vermin. He’s good at it too! But he also has a discerning palate and prefers Fancy Feast to rodent, so now I’m greeted by intact dead mice and moles on my doorstep most mornings. Sometimes, when I’m walking barefoot in my yard, I feel the spongy give of a decomposing mouse carcass beneath my toes. Ahhh, refreshing!

No, just kidding, not refreshing. So nasty. Turns out I have an irrational fear of mice/rats/chipmunks/etc. I just looked up the name of that phobia. Musophobia, apparently. The first time Sunny brought a dead mouse into the garage (yes, it’s happened more than once now!) and I had to pick it up with a dog poop bag, my hands shook and I was on the verge of crying. I know that’s dramatic. THAT’S WHY IT’S CALLED A PHOBIA!!!

Every time I come upon one of Sonny’s kills I scream like I’m being actively murdered. My family has gotten used to it now, but the first few times they came running with pitchforks and Nerf guns, prepared to kill my assailant.

Sonny kills snakes and bugs too, though I don’t mind that so much except for when his face gets swollen from a bee sting and I take him to the emergency vet for no reason. Because as much as I complain about him, I love him so much. The whole family does. Including Dizzy! Dizzy, our 11-year-old mini labradoodle—who is either indifferent to or dislikes 99% of other creatures, including humans—freaking loves Sunny. They play together! It is so cute.

A few things I’ve learned about cats:

• If you close the door to the room where their litter box is, they WILL try to let you know by being as annoying as possible, and they WILL shiz’n’pizz^TM all over your most expensive bed.
• If they suddenly start speaking English, that’s because they’re about to puke so, so much.
• Spray bottles teach them absolutely nothing.
• Any cat toy or scratching post or cat bed will be ignored.
• If you have a baby, that baby’s crib is now the cat’s property. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, bitch!
• They hate water, but will intentionally spill every vessel of water in your home, including their own water dishes.

OK, that’s all. I should find a tidier way to end this but I’m not getting paid $8 to put in that kind of effort!!