Don’t get a broken rescue cat

White cat clearly planning murder

So your significant other has decided that the current amount of feral, ungrateful, aloof yet needy, suspicious eyed felines in your life needs to be incremented. Being the sickening liberal scum that you are you trot off in your conscience dampening hippy mobile to the nearest rescue centre. Big mistake.

I was once told of a Danish couple who were trying to jump through the insanely complicated, tiresomely unnecessary, vetting hoops required to adopt a kid. They were going to grab one from India, presumably because they were thinking about cutting down on Indian takeaway costs and thought cooking skills were genetic rather than learned. They found out the orphanage was trying to fob them off with a broken kid who had some serious health problems, and callously shuffled away from that particular defective little tyke. On reflection, the paraphrased reason of “we just want to start off with a normal kid” is actually, as you might expect from the Danish, incredibly sensible.

Why adopt some fucked up, mentally imbalanced, horror of a cat when you can just get a new, normal, unsullied, fresh from the pack one instead? One that doesn’t flinch at the sight of Adidas trainers and or have a terrible fear of sack cloth bags and canals? I know the shit cats are free, but they will end up costing you a fortune in vets bills unless you just want one to practice your vivisection skills on.

The rescue centres don’t even try and hide it, and I have my doubts about whether the cats actually wrote any of the below, because cat’s spelling is known to be not very good:
“I am a very sensitive girl, and I know that I can be really shy sometimes – I do want to make friends, I just find new people really really scary!” – Translation: I will involuntarily shit all over the lounge carpet every morning when the post arrives.

“I could live with cats and cat savvy dogs, but I think it’s best that I avoid small children. I can be a little temperamental so they’d need to be older and give me my space” – Translation: I will scratch your filthy children’s eyes out whilst they sleep.

“I’m an independent lady looking for my new home with understanding owners who will help me gain some confidence around people”. I once dated a girl whose online profile read suspiciously like this, and she turned out to be a bit retarded too.

Pete and Jenny

Pete and Jenny, acrylic on canvas

Pete and Jenny, 2010.
Acrylic on canvas.

Finally a decent picture. The stubble is great, the metallic chain is easy to paint, but looks ok, the sunburnt hooked jew nose and the rest of Pete’s face is coloured just right. Jenny’s left side of face however, is a dirty washy brown, despite me painting it twice in order to try and fix it. Some things can’t be fixed I guess. I was going to give this as a gift, but then I realised it would only be destroyed before its time in some tragicomedy explosion of chaos if I did.