Confessions of a Pussy Lover Part I

I used to HATE cats. I find everything about them repulsive. Our yard was never without feline feces and it ceaselessly reeked with urine stench leading anyone to cuss out and curse those worthless lazy creatures. I grew up accustomed to that disgusting feline odor permeating our house. I was furious at the sight of them eating on top of our dining table nibbling on our left over food. I always had that sort of uncontrollable urge to kick them when they got in my way and burn their whiskers when they climb up our kitchen counter to take a nap.

Yes. I was the ultimate pussy hater.

My brother Gel was exactly the opposite. He loved cats. He loved them all so much and treated each one like kings and queens. I remember seeing him wake up each morning with a smile and as soon as he stretched out in bed, but lo and behold, our cat Lowella emerges from underneath his blanket. My aunt would often freak out whenever he would secretly allow his cat to come in from his bedroom window, hopping straight to bed with him. He didn't care where that darn cat came from, whether or not it stinked. That didn't deter him from cuddling, kissing, and literally sleeping with his cat. I cringed at the sight of him rubbing his face againts that cat's nose. He had countless asthma attacks. He even went to to the extent of secretly feeding his cat half his favorite crispy fried chicken(which was actually a fave sunday lunch dish in our household). It didn't matter that he would deprive himself of enjoying a must-eat dish.

What shocked me even more was that even after being bitten by Catty our 2 year old cat, Gel remained the pussy lover that he is. That bite alone resulted to 21 excruciatingly painful anti-rabies shots on his abdomen. There was no sign of anger, resentment and even verbal promises of never ever petting Catty. He was devastated when poor Catty drowned. She accidentally fell into our water tank and floated there for a week or so. It made me puke when I learned what happened but not Gel. He took the bloated Catty and gave it proper burial complete with flowers and prayers. He mourned Catty's loss for months.

I saw it as sheer obsession and, utter madness. He shrugged off and ignored every attempt to convince him to do away with Lowella when she became really old. It was obvious that there was no apparent end to the sickening routine of waking up with the cat, and seeing countless hours of uninterrupted feline petting.

In short, my brother was the ULTIMATE pussy lover.

And as for me, i did everything to rid of Lowella out of our house, no matter what and whatever the cost.

And i succeeded.

Yes. It was victory for me, sweet sweet victory.

Find out how i carried out this sinister plan on Part II of my confessions....