Just In Case You Were Not Aware

Cats suck. Like, a lot.

Except for the few cats that have lived in my home as a child, I find most cats utterly terrible. They are moody, impersonal, aggressive, greedy, and generally evil creatures. The only domesticated animal that seems to be constantly fighting the fact that it's been domesticated. If cats had it their way, they'd exist alone roaming the earth, eating and shitting as they please.

In Korea, that's the way most cats swing. Just this morning I was reminded why I hate them so much. I awoke to the sounds of pure horror coming from outside my window. I tried to ignore the animal noises for a while and sleep, but the gargling moans, hisses, and whining growls would not cease.

I feared to go outside. I believed (based on the noises) that I would come face to face with a scene of pure gore. Something is dying out there and I don't want to be a part of it, I thought. I hate cats as much as the next , but I would not care to see one injured and in pain.

Finally I couldn't take it. The sounds were getting louder and more frequent so I burst out of my apartment like a dolphin from a hammock. Outside I found three well-fed street cats all in a stare-down over someones compost bucket. Some profanities sent them scattering, and my Sunday morning returned to peaceful silence again.

If I never see another skulking mangy feline as I walk around my neighborhood, it'll be too soon. Everywhere I go, there are cats darting about from shadow to shadow, giving me looks that I can only describe as insidious. The kind of looks that would give a gypsy rickets.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've got Oscar fever. Or maybe it's just a fever. This is probably those cats' fault. I bet when I'm at work they spend the day licking my mailbox and coughing all over my doorknob. Goddamn it.