You might notice that it looks like Kung Pao Kitten is wearing a skydiving helmet. So it makes perfect sense that he came into my life at the skydiver farmhouse in Indiana, a common drop-off site for all kinds of strays, from teeny kitties to bloody Pit Bulls.

Kung Pao crossed my path as I was stumbling up to the house after yet another hangar party. His head was enormous and his body was scrawny. Everyone else said he looked like the Outbreak monkey.

He stood in front of me and rubbed his bulbous head on my feet, then flipped upside down and curled around my legs.

I should mention how much I hated cats at this point in my life. Loathed them. Wished them dead. I thought they were stupid animals with no personality. They made my lungs all wheezy and my eyes red. I was all "Rah rah, dogs!"

But that night I looked at that cat and said to my boyfriend, "We're taking him home."

"Wha? But ... but ... you HATE cats."

"This cat? And me? We're in love," I said.

I'm so in love with Kung Pao, I'm convinced he's a reincarnated ex-boyfriend. Of course, that's mostly because he's also a total pervert. And I've dated a lot of those.

Kung Pao likes to sit on my lap when I pee. When I shower, he stands on the ledge of the bathtub and presses his paws against the cleap plastic curtain. And let's not even discuss all the times he's slept on my face.

This entry was posted on Friday, July 01, 2005 at 9:50 PM. You can skip to the end and leave a response.