I’ve always had a strong love and natural affinity for animals.  If it didn’t make me sound like a complete serial killer I’d even venture to say that I like animals better than most humans.  But since I don’t want to come across as a murderer I’ll just say I enjoy the company of animals (in a nonsexual way I can’t express that enough) and I don’t have a torture chamber in my basement.

When I was three years old my parents gifted me with a cat one fine Christmas morning.  I had been asking for a kitten for months and since I was becoming more and more responsible with each passing day, which was evident by my almost mastering use of the toilet, they felt I was old enough to care for a precious, defenseless animal.  What my parents got me wasn’t exactly a kitten, he was a two year old orange tabby they had rescued from a local shelter.  He reminded me of Garfield, if Garfield were evil.  I didn’t mind, I immediately fell in love with him at first sight. 

He looked like he had lived a tough life previous to coming to our home and it showed in his actions.  He had a real “fuck you” attitude and a sense of danger about him.  At any moment I felt like he could kill me.  He was like the feline James Dean, except not nearly as handsome and he didn’t end up dying in a car accident.  This cat really hated humans which makes me wonder why the fuck, out of all the animals at the shelter, my parents picked him for a little girl who wanted to dress him up in fancy outfits and put socks on his feet.  That shit is adorable and hilarious and for some reason my cat and I weren’t on the same page about this.

“So what do you want to name him?” my mom asked excitedly.

I had been thinking about this since the moment I had found out I was the proud new owner of a cat and had narrowed it down to two choices: Pancake (my favorite food) or Waffles (my other favorite food).

“No we’re not going to name him that,” my mom said bluntly.  “We’re going to call him Nudger!”  Nudger was the last name of her favorite author at the time.

“Nudger?” I thought.  “That is the worst name ever!”  I hated that name with a vengeance I usually reserve only for lima beans and exercising.  The worst part was I couldn’t even say it right.  When people would ask me my cat’s name I’d say “Bludgerer!” or “NudgePancake!”  For the life of me I couldn’t say it right.  But since I was three years old and hadn’t learned how to effectively debate yet the choice was made and he was forever known as Nudger.

One evening a few months later my mom, dad, and I were watching a movie and shockingly Nudger was sitting in my lap.  This is shocking to me because I had that cat for 17 years and I don’t remember him ever willingly sitting in my lap once.  He must have been strapped tightly in there with some of my dad’s belts.  So I’m sitting there watching TV with my cat strapped to my lap when I got a brilliant idea, “I should give him a bath!” Because there’s nothing cats love more than water right?

So when my parents weren’t looking I crept silently into the bathroom and shut the door.  I could already see the panic and fear in Nudger’s eyes.  He knew something was up and he wanted no part of it.  If he was strong enough he would have attempted to drown me in the sink.  I know this. 

“It’s Ok Bludgerererer!” I said and petted his head in that rough, uncomfortable manner only a three year old can do.

I looked around for some soap, but after coming up unsuccessful in my search I decided I’d use a brand new tube of toothpaste instead.  Toothpaste is like soap for your teeth I convinced myself.  Nudger is like a cat made of teeth so this will work out perfectly.  After squeezing about half a tube of toothpaste onto Nudger and rubbing it vigorously into his fur he turned to me and I could literally see him dying inside.  He was making sounds I had never (and hope to never hear again) come out of an animal.  His meows were like bullets to my heart and I was confused about why he wasn’t enjoying this as much as I was.  All the light went out in his eyes and it was replaced with murder.

I think I mistook the look of murder for love because I kept going until I had used about three fourths of the tube.  It was than that I started getting the eerie feeling of “This was a bad fucking idea what the fuck am I doing just walk away!”  I put the toothpaste down and starred with horror at what I had created.  I felt like the Devil and Jesus was crying somewhere.  Nudger looked pitiful.  He looked like a minty green drowned rat and he smelled absolutely delicious. He hissed at me as I opened the door and slowly backed out of the bathroom.  I shut the door behind me and returned to my sitting position in the family room.

“What were you doing in there?” My mom asked suspiciously.

“What? Nothing! What? Going to the bathroom like a big girl!” I responded calmly.

She eyed me for a moment, than seemed OK with my answer and went back to watching the movie.  I was a nervous wreck inside.  Any moment I knew they were going to find out what I did and I was going to be dead.  I started sweating profusely and dreamt about running away.  I romanticized the whole idea and felt I could be like one of the Boxcar Children.  Just than a commercial came on and my mom stood up.

“Where are you going?” I asked nervously.

“To the bathroom,” she said.  “Is that OK with you?”

“NO! What? NO! I mean I don’t care! Go for it! Peeing is fun!” I responded.  I think I even added a carefree laugh just to show her how OK I was with all of this.

She looked at me blankly for a moment than shook her head and walked to the bathroom.  That was when I heard it.

“WHAT THE-” she started shouting and I was off in a runners sprint like Lindsay Lohan towards a bar after an AA meeting.  I was already up in my room hiding under my bed when I heard her finish with a “THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!”

I got in the most serious trouble of my young life that evening.  To this day I try and show my parents the humor of the situation, but they still think what I did was insane.

“Wasn’t that so funny when I did that to Nudger? Toothpaste! Kids are just so precious aren’t they? Can I get a hug?”

And I’m not kidding when I say this, I didn’t see Nudger for two years after that incident.  He hid in the basement for TWO entire years only coming out to feed and cause mischief at night.  Until one afternoon when I was watching Rainbow Bright he appeared from the depths of Hell and walked past me eyeing me with a “What the fuck you looking at bitch mind yo business” face and I turned to my mom and said “We have a cat still??” 

Through it all Nudger and I had a love hate relationship.  I intensely loved him and he intensely hated me.  Although his hate slowly lessened and developed into an extreme dislike over the years.  As I grew up and matured like a fine wine he even permitted letting me pet him a few times without him retaliating and trying to claw my face off.  It was dare I say, almost romantic. 

He got cancer when I was in college and my parents decided to put him to sleep … I didn’t realize how much I missed him until I wrote this.