Yes, I have gone full Tony Montana! It’s time bring out the big guns in my quest to conquer the internet. And nothing bosses bandwith more than our feline friends.
So…meet Adolf Kitler!
We used to live next door to a big country estate. It was lovely, because it was really quiet and we had no immediate neighbours, but a downside to this was that it seemed to be the local go-to place for people to dump cats that they didn’t want.
We had already taken on two cats that had been dumped, as kittens, in a carrier bag on Christmas Eve (everybody say “ahhhh”!), but were down to one now, as one of the kittens (Pickles) had gone batshit crazy after being spayed, and literally chased her sister (Poitin) away. There was nothing we could do about it, and last we knew, she had moved in at a farmer’s house down the road.
We did try and take on another dumpee, a ginger female with long hair and a squashed face (dubbed “Chutney”), but she woke me at five in the morning by crapping on the bed and was taken to the strange cat lady who rehomes strays that very day.
It was not cool.
And we also rehomed a kitten with my parents. Missy, they called her, for some reason, and she is completely boss eyed with claws that could be weaponised.
And then one day, Adolf appeared.
(Don't worry, he is just yawning!)
This little face appeared one day at the back window, and the resemblance to the German dictator was immediately unmistakeable. I was not keen to take on another cat, but my wife and Pickles do not get on, so she wanted another one. To be fair, the only person that Pickles likes is me. And “likes” is an under-statement. She fecking stalks me. If she was a human being, I would have sought a restraining order by now. I am one of those natural cat-whisperers, and on this occasion, it has led to Pickles being utterly infatuated with me.
So, the argument was posited that the family needs another cat, somewhat strengthened by the fact that where we lived meant a constant stream of auditionees. And when one came along that looked hilariously like Hitler (this is an actual thing), well, we just had to give him a fair crack.
I am delighted to say that he has not displayed any signs of megalomania. Actually, he is pretty stupid, more like a puppy than a cat. He is also a bit of a scumbag, and enjoys sleeping on the compost heap in the summer, which has led to various skin complaints, and several expensive trips to the vets.
The cost though, is somewhat offset when the vet comes into the packed waiting room and says:
“Next – Adolf Kitler.”
I love it when people do a double take.
And as much as I didn’t want him, I love Adolf Kitler, too.