My cat is a drunk

I put up with a lot. I don’t say that to brag or anything, but it’s true. When my lesbian dog came out of the proverbial closet, I acted as if it was as natural as the day is long, none of my business was my attitude and truth be told, it really is none of my business, what she does with another dog of the same gender much less same breed, I could care less. Really, although I don’t think she and her “partner” should raise puppies together, I am the last person who should make decisions on things like that.

I am a conservative republican and it pains me to say that, because hypocrites like Mitt Romney and drug abusing multi-married Rush Limbaugh have tarnished the brand, but the fact is, I think adults of any species should be allowed to lead complex lives of their own choosing as long as they are responsible. Which is why this morning when my freakishly sexually challenged cat admitted to being an out and out alcoholic I lost my shit.

“Look,” I said, seriously, “I can deal with your promiscuity and lack of morals, and I can deal with the different baby daddies and I can even deal with the late in life lesbianism, but really, the morning beer drinking, followed by the unpleasant afternoons of tequila shots leading to late night binges of Zeldameisters and god knows what you do when I am sleeping, I am just at the end of my rope here.”

She was passed out on the kitchen floor and not listening to a word I said. This is how she deals with my heavy handed criticism. Sometimes she gives me that unforgiving look, like I am just another man who does not understand her burden.

I know a lot about women, I have been married quite a few times and when not married, I have danced with numerous others. Just a few weeks ago my third wife Backwoods Becky asked me a very serious question, “what the fuck?” I just nodded knowingly and that seemed to be enough for her. Backwoods Becky may have been my second favorite of all my ex-wives.

Here is what I know about alcoholics, they are often fun at parties, but they make the very worst designated drivers, unless you are in Mexico, which in that case they are fine drivers. The closer you get to the equator, the less alcohol affects the central nervous system, that’s a fact, you can look that up in the medical journals.

I was recently at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting and this guy named Jim stood up and said he was the comptroller for the city of Plottsberg, which is a small hamlet nearby, so I figured he was at our local meeting so people would not recognize him. He told this sad story about how his wife had left him with the kids and to fund his alcoholism he had been stealing from the cities redevelopment fund and was sure that someday, someone would catch him and he would certainly face jail time and not some cushy federal jail but probably some serious state prison where people don’t play tennis.

Jim had all sorts of sad stories and lucky for him the meeting was pretty much anonymous because telling about how he was stealing from the hamlet of Plottsberg would ruin him if word got out. Anyway, the point of all this is that at some point in history drunk people were kind of fun and funny, but now I find them more and more just sort of laying about on my kitchen floor, throwing up hairballs and spitting out countless unwanted kittens and to be honest, I am kind of tired of it.