2004-06-22 - 11:47 p.m.
The Bad Cat died today.
I really want to be upset about it, but I just pretend that he wasn't real.
The first thing I said when my mom told me was, "That stupid little cat liked to piss on my crap, didn't he."
The most depressing thing about it is that my family is such poor white trash that we can't be bothered (or afford for that matter) to take a suffering pet to the vet to at least put it out of its misery.
My mom actually was going to take the Bad Cat to the vet. On Thursday. Didn't exactly make it. I've insisted that she take the Good Cat to the vet instead. I honestly expected him to die last summer. I hate to think of losing him. We grew up together. I got him when I moved to Tennessee for the first time. He's kept my secrets and been a good friend since I was nine.
On a happy note, I will definately remember the first day the Bad Cat lived with us. He got confused between the litter box and my mom's garbage can. He ended up sitting in the garbage can and peeing... all the time looking at me like he had done something wonderful and deserved a reward. The first time, it was cute that he pissed somewhere he wasn't suppose to... and of course the last thing he pissed on was my concert band music... and that was not cute.
Okay... I'm done now...
