The cat orgy story

This was originally written as a series of tweets, but after a few requests I’m also putting it here.

 

Ok… cat orgy story.

Back in the days of yore, I was out in Chicago for a meeting. While many co-workers stayed at a hostel, I was one who got to stay with one of the folks who lived out there. She was fairly new to the paper, so people thought it would be good for us as something of a bonding thing, seeing as how we’re the same age and both from California

So, after a day that involved a flight and 8 hours of a meeting, I got in her car to go back to her apartment. On the way, she took a small detour that took us to a parking lot. There was one single street light working, and we parked under it. Another car pulled up and my new coworker got out of the car to buy some weed. Ok. C’est la vie.

We get back to her apartment, and I’d known she had pets. This was fine. I had dogs and cats, too. Her apartment was shared by her, her girlfriend, their 3 dogs, and about 15 cats.

After a few hours of chit-chat, they retired to their room with the dogs. I was given an inflatable mattress on the living room floor.

The cats circled around me.

She had mentioned that one of the cats was pregnant. She had failed to mention that 2 others were in heat, and that 7 were unneutered toms. I laid there, trying desperately to get to sleep. The sounds of cat sex chirped up through the sounds of two lesbians snoring. Every time I was thankful the pained howling was over, it would start up again. It got closer and closer to my head.

In the dark of the room, I could just make out the shape of cats. They were everywhere.

Two toms started fighting, running across my legs. Through the night, I got about 2 hours sleep and heard every combination of cat sex possible.

I stumbled into the meeting the next day, and clearly looked a state. I was also unshowered, having found out after the fact that the only bathroom in the apartment was one with no locks, that the dogs would push into. The shower was also where they did their laundry which was left in there, festering to a moldy pile of tie-dye and cat piss. It also housed two of the 5 litter trays. (Another two of course, being in my sleeping quarters, with one for good measure stuck in the kitchen.) So I walk into the meeting and immediately get asked by a coworker why I look so haggard.

I shudder. Having looked at my phone, I had seen it. The unforgiving evidence.

In the screen was a single cat hair. It had worked its way deep into my phone as cat mounted cat the night before. I was left to awkwardly declare that I refused to sleep there again. Arrangements had to be made so I could collect my things (which no doubt, had been under  daytime feline sex games). Arrangements had to be made to get me a room at the hostel. Sharing a room was fine. Just so long as there were no cats. No cat sex inches from my head. No cat fights across my legs.

I had the phone for a few more months, every call reminding me of those damn cats. Now the former coworker is on FB. Everytime she posts, I think of her cats.

 

A non-Twitter post script: The whole thing is another incident of the early 2000s where I have vivid memories of the smell. Stale marijuana smoke mixed with incense to fuse with the dank quality of second-hand furniture. The home laundering and multiple litter trays had an acrid ammonia stench. Air fresheners were forbidden, as was deodorant.

The same woman was also obsessed with healthy shit. Not ‘healthy shit’. Literally shit. She would frequently go on about the quantity of feces one should produce, the colour and quality of it that was required to prove one’s health. This was the breakfast conversation. Or rather, the conversation as I tiredly refused to eat or drink anything, desperate to get back to the office, where I could have a real coffee in a clean cup.

Advertisements

About jeninher30s

A writer and procrastinator.
%d bloggers like this: