For all the crap I gave ACW when he was going through his young cat blogging several months ago, I am now stuck in a dilemma (if I were him, I would be so pouncing on my ass right now). Don’t get me wrong, there will be no cutsey-poo posts detailing any young cat episodes. There will be no pictures here. If you want to look at pictures of young cats, look here and you’ll get the general idea. But, the fact of the matter is, I have a creature in here that likes to pee on fluffy stuff; and by fluffy stuff, unfortunately, I do not mean cat litter. So far he has taken down, a) a throw pillow, and b) my head. This just begs for mockery, and who am I to not allow myself to be mocked for having my head peed on in the first five seconds of cat ownership? Hell, technically, I don’t think I was even the owner yet. I had the cat on one shoulder, adoption fee in hand, a bulldog came charging in the door, and next thing I knew, I received my second/first(?) baptism.

Apparently, this had happened once before. I have no memory of this, but my parents apologized for the episode years later. The scenario, from what I’ve been told, involved holy water, a Franciscan priest, incense, and my parents trying trying to shut a grandmother up already... or so I was told. I think one of my two conceivers was still going through the motions of playing around with the God stuff when I was a baby. This is neither here nor there for me. A Hoodoo priest could have sprayed me with chicken blood for all I care. I have no problem with ceremony, and I have a particular lack a concern for ceremonies performed on babies who are too young to remember said ceremony. No hot pokers were used, at least none that left any visible scars, so no harm or benefit was had. So be it.

But, I’ve always gotten a kick out of what the priest apparently said... from what I was told. Supposedly, and I have no way of knowing if this is true, the priest told my parents that the holy water failed to soak in and rolled off my head, null and voiding the baptism.

MY BABY FOREHEAD REJECTED JESUS... or so I was told.

Show if hands of anyone who thinks my parents were full of it when they told me that story.

Mom, time to come clean. Were you and Dad fucking with me? If you weren’t, was I baptized by a retarded Franciscan? And if you were, were you two laughing your asses off; or were you trying to protect me from the terrifying thought that my soul had been stamped with God’s seal of judgment/approval/damnation?

Where was I? Oh, yeah... my kitten peed on my head... and he needs to be litter trained... and just peed on a throw pillow... blah blah blah... no I didn’t scold him... blah blah blah... it doesn’t take a genius to litter train a kitten... blah blah blah... he’s locked in a carpetless bathroom for the night with the litter box and a big bowl of water...

Oh yes, and in case you were wondering, the baptism soaked in. My soul has accepted cat urine as its personal savior.