Cat Whore

March 4, 2013 § 13 Comments

Image

I have a cat named Sunny, a neutered male Burmese with a girl’s name.  Recently I traveled to Richmond for an ad pitch, and though Sunny’s basic needs were met by my roommate, his emotional care called for a little something extra. The warm maternal touch of a woman who would play with him and brush him and yes, spend the night with him.  Be his nocturnal companion. Stroke his nappy pelt. Let him wrap his body around her head like a shower cap while he dreamed of his absent mommy.

My mother, raised on a farm in back-woodsy Louisiana, cannot understand the idea of preening an animal for anything but the dinner table, and thinks the whole idea of the emotional nocturnal cat-cuddler is hilarious, and cackles predictably.  After all, by the age of six she had been assigned the task of wringing the chicken’s necks. Round about that time, she also started smoking.  I imagine her in warm Louisiana sunlight, a limp chicken in each hand, a cigarette dangling from her lips, peering into the rising sun, thinking about her doll made of straw and the circle of life.

But I digress. My cat escort, Valerie, arrived with an attitude and a big black purse which I supposed held the tricks of her trade – catnip and feather toys and half a pint of vodka, because she seemed the type.

“I’m an escort,” she began before I could introduce myself. “Strictly companionship. And I don’t do kink.  Last week two giant tabby’s started kneading me in the middle of the night while a parrot screamed out obscenities. I was out of there in two seconds.”

“He just needs someone to brush and pet him and sleep with him, that’s all.”

“I’m not just a cat escort. I have dreams.”

“I understand.  Tell me, do you have a cat John who beats you?”

She stared at me a long moment. “I don’t know you, but I already hate your sense of humor, and you too.”

“Fair enough.”  I introduced her to Sunny, who allowed her to stroke him between his taut, pointy, was-that-a-mouse-I-just-heard ears.  “He likes to be brushed under his chin,” I said. “And he likes it when you say, “Who’s a baby? Are you my baby? You are my sweet sweet baby.”

“That sounds like a Justin Bieber song.”

“It is.  And one more thing if you don’t mind.  He likes it when you rhythmically, lightly tap his flanks.”

Her eyebrows went up.  Her purse shifted and I heard the distinct sound of a pair of claw clippers clinking against a full pint bottle. “He likes to be spanked?”

“No, not spanked.  Just tap his flanks rhythmically with your open palms.” I demonstrated.  “And if you don’t mind kind of saying at the same time:  “Who’s a bad boy? Are you a bad boy? You are a bad bad boy.”

“That sounds like a Taylor Swift song.”

“It is.”

She stood up. “I told you, I don’t do kink.”

“I’ll give you twenty bucks extra.”

She sat back down.  “What am I supposed to say again?”

“Who’s a bad boy? Are you a bad boy? You are a bad bad boy.”

“Who’s a bad boy?” She repeated.

“Maybe a little more attitude,” I said.  “Like he’s in trouble but not really.”

“I’m really uncomfortable with this.”

“Trust me, he loves it.”

“I’m not just a cat escort.  I have dreams.”

“I understand.”

 

Advertisements

§ 13 Responses to Cat Whore

  • Tez Miller says:

    He’s a strange one, bless him 😉 *hugs to kitteh*

  • sarasmile101 says:

    I want to escort Sunny to our house when you travel! He’s so sweet and shiny and compact I just want to hug him and wuv him! PLEASE wrap him up in that tuna can bed (so cute) and have him delivered to us for a ‘test date’ with our two cats. Moca and Miles would love him …they could all play ‘ninja attack’ and ‘thumping elephant run’ and ‘kitty parkour’ together all day and night. Our cats are a bit flabby and could use the exercise and the extra licks and schmoops. I would be happy to call him ‘baby’ and ‘naughty’ and pat down his ‘tushy’ as my friend calls it but I also use the term ‘bunny’ very often (mr sunny bunny sounds awesome!) and ‘cookie face’ and ‘fuzzy pants’ get thrown into the mix a lot too. Our cats are so used to me talking crazy human talk at them that they meow and bleep back at us all the time now. I wish I could learn how to speak to them properly so they could understand and agree to a real play date… Moca wouldn’t want to leave her house comfort-zone but our fuzzy boy Miles loves to sneak outside and stare at outdoor cats and explore new smells
    so maybe all male cats are ok with a change of scene every once in a while? Meow? Bleepbleep! : O

  • Debbie Bowie says:

    You never, ever fail to make me laugh. Thank you.

  • Debbie Bowie says:

    And I can’t wait to meet your mother one of these days.

  • The Rabbit says:

    This made me laugh so stinking hard. I probably would have laughed harder if it weren’t completely true…

  • Saintly Mother says:

    You are SUCH a dummy! The cat prostitute needed a big purse to hold all the money you were paying her. Maybe I’m just jealous that I never thought of such a lucrative career. However, we backwoods girls aren’t known for being clever, but HAVE been known to produce clever offspring.

  • Therese Stacy says:

    Momma says a cat with a tuna bed always overcompensates because the farm is plumb worked out of him. Save your imaginings, cause the kitty is really dreaming of a primordial wild-eyed giant sister with cat scoliosis and rat breath.

  • Michele Wilhite says:

    Your “care giver” requirements sound perfectly natural to me! Maybe that’s because we have the “queen-of-need.” A few demands that must be met; call her Boober-Boober-Boober while scratching her belly, and allowing her to give you a COMPLETE “face bath,” or until you bleed, whatever comes first! Yes, it’s the big Z, Sunny’s adoptive mother.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading Cat Whore at Kathy Hepinstall's Blog.

meta

%d bloggers like this: