Mittens the Cat

There are three types of people in the world: Dog People, Cat People and Sad, Lonely People. Dog people are stereotypically happy families, bitter old men, and sometimes, sadistic teenage boys. And then there's cat people, which tend to be more like lonely elderly women, people who go brain dead at the sight of a furry little kitten, and pedophiles.



Personally, I have always been a cat person. Ever since I was young, whenever I see a cat, a wave of exuberance mixed with loss of cognition has washed over me. I could be in the middle of a completely intelligent conversation and be brought down to a vegetable state at the mere sight of a feline.



And it's this trait of mine exactly that caused me to completely destroy the life and happiness of my eldest sister's cat.

His name was Mittens. Actually, I have no idea what his name was, Mittens was just the first thing that came to my head. Regardless, Mittens was a happy cat. He loved sunshine, smiles, rainbows and rollerskating. He danced with unicorns and had ambitions to become the first cat Prime Minister of Canada.



He had a bright, happy future ahead of him, until he met me.

But I did what any other eccentric, cat-loving kid did, and "over-loved", which is the nice way of saying I chased, cornered, and mauled the shit out of that cat until it hated all of humanity and spent the rest of it's life plotting destroy me and all of mankind in whatever way it was capable.





But if you're shedding tears for Mittens, you can stop right now. Because I can assure you that even after growing up and attempting to reconcile with Mittens, he made sure to get his revenge and successfully tortured me throughout my adult existence.



Mittens: 1 - Rene: 0