My family has a knack for selecting unusual pets. I don’t mean ones from exotic locales, but ones that have such unusual personalities that are just on this side of crazy. I could fill pages with stories from Baugera–the earliest hellion–to my first cat Bootsy, whom we nicknames El Fatso Gordo–a visual reference isn’t necessary–to Buddy, who passed away last year. To ease you into our pet insanity, I produce a tale of Tachita (AKA Kita), my personal ball of devil fluff.

Tachita’s name is spanish for ‘Little Taco’ and she was named such because the area where she was born was nicknamed Taco Flats. From day one she proved to be a spit fire and extremely bossy. When she was up and about she wasn’t afraid to boss the dogs which scared the living day lights out of me. I don’t know if you’ve ever watched a six week old kitten swat a Doberman mix on the nose, but it’s not a funny experience. And of course, there was no rest at night either. She still needed to be bottle fed and–like any baby–wanted to be fed morning, noon, and night. As well as midnight. All I will say is–heaven help me if I wasn’t fast enough. Of course, there were moments when I got a good laugh at her expense, as I did on one occasion when she went fishing.

Some time after I’d gotten he,r my family moved to a new town and–as usual–my brother and I were assigned periodic chores. Mine on this fateful day was dishes. My habit is usually to put the dishes in the left hand side of the sink and leave the right empty to pour rinse water into. This time I did the reverse and Tachita–ever so curious–hoped up to observe the mysterious ‘work’ she’d heard so much about. The problem? She stuck her tail in the water.

I don’t know what the problem was. Maybe the water was warm, or maybe she had an anti-absorbent tail. Whatever the cause, it was a good five minutes before Tachita realized what had occurred and then the disaster lights went off. She bolted and streaked through our house, running first one way and then the other. Tachita is a long haired cat, complete with a bottle brush-like tail. It wasn’t brushy at the moment, not all of it anyway. About half of it was soaking wet and resembled a rat’s tail. It also seemed to affect her balance because–as she tore from one side of the house to the other–she kept tripping nose over tail, repeatedly.

This continued for several minutes with my family splitting at the seams with laughter. Eventually, she tore into the kitchen, scrabbled across the tile, and dove into the dryer. And before anyone freaks out, no, we didn’t tumble dry my cat. It was several minutes before she mustered enough dignity to come out, but whenever she goes near the sink I chuckle to myself. She didn’t just get wet.

Kita went fishing.


Disclaimer: I do not own the imagery used in this blog post and have no artistic claim to it.


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