A little over four years ago I adopted a month-old kitten named “Melanie.” I picked her because she was rather calm and oh so cute. I took her home and began my journey as a cat owner. I also took the liberty to rename her “Minksy” because her soft gray fur reminded me of a mink coat, and the name “Melanie” just didn’t fit her.
About a year later I married Travis, and he assumed the responsibility to become Minksy’s daddy. He tolerated her and eventually grew to like her even. During my pregnancies Travis had to change the litter box, which he did without complaining. When we lived in New Orleans there was a time when we left for a week to visit family in the summer. In order to save on our power bill Travis turned the AC off. When we got home the inside temp. was 96 degrees. Minksy survived, but I wasn’t too happy about almost losing my cat to heat stroke.
Fast forward to Memphis. We came to realize that Minksy was not a fan of other felines. Dogs, birds, squirrels, and children are okay, but cats? In Minksy’s eyes other cats were Al Qaeda in fur. There are a lot of stray cats in our neighborhood, and everytime one would come to our door step, the devil himself would enter little Minksy’s body and possess her to where she would shrill and shriek while physically lunging at the door to attack the trespassing cat.
When this first started happening, I would just wait until the stray left our porch. Minksy would eventually calm down. Sometimes though, Minksy would be overcome with aggression that she would lunge at me. I would tell her, “No, Minksy!” and then leave the room until she calmed down.
Minksy never physically attacked me, but I wasn’t completely sure that one day she would snap and become aggressive with me, or worse with my children.
Well, that day came unfortunately and we just had enough with our crazy cat. I was on the couch nursing Analise and a cat came to our door and the devil entered Minksy again for the umpteenth time. Minksy lunged at me and Analise while swatting with her paw, claws and all. She didn’t get us because I got up faster than lightening. That was it. Minksy had to go.
I called the Humane Society, but they said that they are not accepting cats or dogs. Then I called our local cat adoption agency called House of Mews. The lady on the other line said that they are not accepting cats either, and that all of the other pet adoption agencies are not accepting cats right now. I said, “Well, I would keep Minksy if she wasn’t aggressive.” I continued saying how I love my cat, but that I love my kids more. This crazy cat lady then responded with, “We don’t love kids more, we love them differently.” I rolled my eyes and closed the conversation.
I was left with three options. 1. Keep Minksy. This would not work, and I DO LOVE MY KIDS MORE than that furball. 2. Take Minksy to the Pound. Even though I love my kids more than my cat I still believe in the humane treatment of animals, and I just couldn’t send Minksy to a life in an ill-fitting cage, malnourished, and mistreated. 3. Kill Minksy. This really became my only option- to put my crazy cat to sleep. I called our vet, and even she agreed that this would be the best option since Minksy was being aggressive. Even the vet had to put her dog down recently for being aggressive. It became clear to me what the necessary, although sad, solution to this situation had to be.
In December of 2011, Minksy was dropped off at Central Animal Hospital to be put to sleep. I didn’t even stay in the room with her when they injected her because it would have been too hard. Kara was at our church’s daycare for the day, and Analise was with me. I signed some papers, paid a fee, and was told that Minksy’s ashes would be dispersed at Shelby Farms. I thought, “Gross.” I left the hospital, got in my van, and drove off both a little sad, but also relieved. I know that my kids are safe from cat attacks, and I know that Minksy had four happy years with me.
All in all, I have moved on. Kara? Well, she mentions Minksy almost everyday. When she sees a cat or a picture of a cat, she will often say “Minksy!” Sometimes she’ll say “cat” or “meow,” but usually she will associate the cat to Minksy. Pitiful. She also says, “Minksy, bye-bye.” This has been going on for five months now, and I keep thinking that she’ll get over our now dead cat. At some point I’m going to have to break the news to Kara that Minksy is now sprinkled over Shelby Farms, and it’s my fault.
If you are a cat lover, I apologize for this horror story. If you do not like cats, you’re welcome. The point of this post is to simply say, “Yes, I am a cat killer not by desire, but by necessity.” Judge me if you’d like, but at least my kids are safe and I do love them MORE.
