I'm Kellis, a bad-ass cat that had a bad-ass start in life when discovered inside a commercial trash container at a local high school one very hot Arizona August.

I was weeks old and the only kitten to survive the dumping. I was soon whisked off to a home with endless padded furniture awaiting my growing talons. My new digs came with 'round-the -clock bottle feedings by a woman who decided to name me after the high school where I obtained an honorary GED-Goodness evades Death.

My new mom kept telling my soon-to-be new dad that she was providing a temporary home, until a permanent owner was found, all the while cooing at every bottle feeding, I was the prettiest little boy kitty she ever saw. I sensed my life was going to have a good ending.

That was twelve years ago.

I've been a pretty good actor, sans the occasional puking, destruction of furniture, carpets, and sometimes peeing where I should not.

Over the decade, I've shared the house with five dogs and two grey cats, up until a month ago. CeCe our beautiful grey girl was taken by either a coyote or flying preditor. My mom is holding out hope that CeCe found a new home she liked better, and will one day make it back to us. Mom even left some of her worn clothes in the back yard to lead her home. I deal in reality, CeCe is so-so gone-zo.

Cece's disappearance caused me stress. Clumping cat litter and stress created a perfect storm in my body, creating a problem with my pooper. I huffed and puffed and nothing came out. I was whisked off to the vet where I was probed, fondled and hooked up to an IV with fluids. I awaited the alien abduction. I was sent home with too many pills.

Ever try to pill a cat?

I knew my mom was nervous about the pill thing. She was on YouTube looking for the best method to save her own talons. The ole gal did okay, but the pills didn't...

Off I went again inside a mesh cage as we headed back to the animal hospital. I meowed loudly in protest. "You don't travel well!" Mom said as she petted drove back to Horrorville.

My second car ride came with a three-day hospital stay and several procedures the humans referred to as enemas. I prefer the term Hoover or Wet Vac. I was certain I was going to lose a lung through my pooh hole. My abduction also came with a $900 bill. Mom said I was worth it. Dad disagreed.

My discharge following a few volcanic spewings came with more pills added to the dosing schedule, and my gnarling and screaming from the back of the building. The vet tech presented my in my suitcase. Mom inquired of the sweaty, masked vet tech if that was me she heard echoing through the walls, imitating great white -- tiger. The shaking lady said "Yes, he didn't like me removing his IV very much." That was likely the moment the world lost another cat lover.

Mom was about to have a nervous breakdown with the pressure of pilling me.

On Saturday, I'd had enough. My fangs bit both her index fingers. There was blood everywhere. Mom developed an infection and is now pilling her own self. She does much better than me in that regard.

I'm now being plied twice a day with Bubble gum flavored Amoxicillin through a squirter that her grandson was prescibed for an ear ache. Then CoVid-19 struck. Instead of trying to jam the horse pill form of the same med to the back of my mouth, I'm now getting reverse squirts to my unaffected, other pie hole.

To further the insult, the medicine is pink. This Tiger King doesn't do pink. I have a bad-ass reputation to uphold and pink does nothing to further my image to that end. You know--the end that caused all the trouble.

Considering the above, I need a vacation. Dad agrees. He's buying me a one-way ticket to Timbuktu.

Anyone know if there is a Club Med in Timbuktu?


Signed:

Kellis Kat aka Tiger King