I Am Obsessed

Seemingly Sweet and Innocent

I got Bently at the end of April. He was a sort of an impulse purchase. I was at the Pet Expo with my friend Trish (yeah, that is one place I never imagined myself jonesing to go to but I suppose fate had plans for me) when I spotted a deranged looking woman in cat face paint holding a massive ball of fur from across the showroom. I assumed from the way she was practically making out with the thing that she had just purchased him but no, she apparently does that with any cat she finds.

“That is my cat!” I exhaled. I had been joking for a few weeks that I was either going to need to get some lovin’ or I was going to have to get myself a cat. And I hate cats.

How can you not love that face?!

But Bently was different. I mean, look at him – He looks somebody spray painted Garfield grey and white and I was obsessed with Garfield as a kid.

Bently was name that had been given to him by the crazy ladies at the Kitty foster care place. I liked the name and chose to keep it because I didn’t want him to have to undergo any more traumatic change than what he had experienced with the ladies who started bawling when they had to give him up to me. He is three and a giant tub o’ fur. He is like pretty much every other man in my life in that he is pretty apathetic to my existence until I am not paying to attention to him. And so I treat him as I do those other men, smothering him with love until he figures out how awesome I am. The advantage with Bently is that I can actually physically smother him and so we have established the nightly ritual where I try to get him to cuddle with me at bedtime and he tries for dear life to get the hell away from me until 2 am when suddenly I am desirable. Again – men.

Bently has cost me a near fortune in our brief relationship. He came to me with lots of baggage which he disguised with cuteness, reminding me of my last boyfriend. He is blind, has some serious bladder issues and oh yeah, has herpes. He is also a compulsive paper eater and a bulimic. I am developing a very special relationship with my vet.

My Dad keeps telling me I should trade in the defective fur ball but he is like my child. You can’t return your kid just because he has issues. If you could I am sure my parents would have swapped me for a better model years ago.

No, Bently is a neurotic mess with all sorts of issues. But so am I. I guess we make the perfect pair.

Oh yeah - because he is slightly scary.