Bubble Suds: My Cat Hates Everything

Rascle has never been called a social butterfly.

On the contrary, he is the most antisocial member of the household. It is his sole duty in life to lead a private, miserable life and to let you know this every chance he gets.

Rascle hates everything. He's a vacuum for all that is good and fun in his life, and he will suck it dry until even the small shred of happiness doesn't have the will to fight back anymore.

He's a fun-sucker.

He hates everything, including me. It's only a matter of when and how he will show me. You see, "affection and kindness" aren't traits that come with a cat like Rascle. Rascle's emotional range goes from passive-aggressive to rage, with no room for kindness in between. It's a matter of what kind of hate he happens to be in the mood for that day.

The first method of showing his dislike for my general existence is to mark his territory. Rascle will pee on anything and everything. Now, this isn't "my litterbox is small" peeing, or "I have an infection" peeing. This is "I want to destroy this loved item and prevent it's further use" peeing.

He pees on boxes, pillows, blankets, beds, electronics, you name it. It's all fair game.

For anyone who owns or has owned a cat, you know that cat urine is perhaps the most potent and foul-smelling liquid on the planet. Not only does it smell bad in-the-now, it smells worse in-the-later after you've washed and scrubbed the living shit out of whatever it is that he's decided to ruin.

But to Rascle, it isn't ruined. It's simply his now. It's his space. He's so engulfed by his own misery that he feels the need to ruin anything that someone else in the household might gain happiness from. Because, how dare they? How rude, right?

If he can't be happy, nobody can.

(This is quite possibly the only thing he gains satisfaction from).

He has a variety of other methods for showing his hatred towards humanity. The second is pretending to be nice to everyone. This is usually only to get something he wants.

There's a reason that everyone in the household is confused when Rascle shows up in the family room and rubs against our legs. It's because it's such a rare occurrence that we're now dumbfounded by it's appearance. His kindness has now become an abnormal behavior.

Is that Rascle? ... No way bro. It just can't be.

But it is.

Rascle appears when he's hungry, and his facade is simply to remind you that his bowl is empty.

When you wake up at 3:00 in the morning to a chill down your spine, and turn over only to find him an inch from your face, this is to remind you that you're too late.

Game over, bitch.

He's going to wind all 30lbs. of himself between your legs tomorrow at the top of the stairs in hopes you fall to your death, and there's nothing you can do about it.

(This is perhaps the second thing in life he gets enjoyment out of).

His third way of expressing his distaste for the world is to beat up on his brother, Socks, who is innocent in all of these affairs. He doesn't involve himself if it isn't necessary, and he's almost always cowering on the sidelines somewhere in one of Rascle's revolts and plans.

Sometimes I think Rascle takes things out on him that simply aren't his fault, or aren't even related to him at all because he's there, and it's just too easy.

His bowl wasn't filled today? His litterbox wasn't spotless? Scratching the sofa wasn't as satisfactory as usual? Extra beatings.