I
got a new cat this week. I was working hard in my cubicle (i.e.
browsing Facebook) when I noticed a posting from the Animal Humane
Society about this 6-month-old kitten named Phoenix. He had been brought
in to the shelter after having been burned and found in a dumpster. His
story was so heartbreaking, I knew I had to do something to help him. I
immediately ran to my supervisor's desk to tell him that I had to leave
to adopt a cat. He stared at me blankly for a few seconds (As he
should- it's not a request a supervisor hears every day. Though coming
from me he should be prepared for utter craziness to come out of my
mouth at any time. At first he thought I was telling him that HE needed
to go to the Humane Society to get a pet [which is something I would
probably do]) before saying "Okay, go ahead." I had taken the bus in to
work that day and had no way to get to the shelter when my friend
offered me her car (how awesome is that?!). I drove as fast as I could
because I knew that he wouldn't stay at the shelter long. Police and
speed limits be damned- they would just have to follow me to the shelter
and deal with me later- Phoenix was MINE. Luckily, he was still there
when I got to the humane society and I was able to lay eyes on my new
love. I saw that his whiskers were burned off, and as if there was any
doubt, I knew that I had to adopt him. 
When
I got home from work yesterday all I wanted to do was cuddle with
Phoenix. I felt so badly that I had left him alone on his first day
home. Even though I had just started The Biggest Loser at my work again (and this time I didn't start it with a drunken freak out)
I didn't want to work out at all, I just wanted to lounge with my new
pet. Then, as I was petting him, my hands ran across the fur on his
back that was singed from the fire, and I got really, really angry. I
couldn't believe that someone would do something so heinous to a
defenseless animal. I wanted to punch the person who did it in the face.
It's odd how rage is such
a great motivator for exercise. I figured that if I ever run into that
person, I had better be in shape so I can kick his ass. No one messes
with something I love and doesn't hear from me. I punched, kicked, and jumped my way in to exhaustion. The bad feelings are gone, and now all I have is love. The person who hurt Phoenix doesn't get to win by making me hateful. No way. Phoenix won by surviving, and I am going to win by making sure that he is never hurt again. The monster who set fire to my cat will burn for what he did, and I don't have to spend one more second thinking about him.
Another benefit of having Phoenix around is that I would rather play with him than make dinner. Eating cereal every night instead of burying my face in a huge bowl of pasta has really been beneficial to my diet!
In conclusion, there are two morals to this story: 1) The Animal Humane Society does great work. If you are looking for a pet, I encourage you to consider adopting. 2) Cats are good for weight loss.
Stay tuned for tales from a first-time cat owner! The next installment: It hurts when a cat walks on your face while you are sleeping.
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