Iris the Cat part 1

After moving back from Maui on some sort of failed spirit quest, I was feeling lonely. I was working at a coffee shop full time, which really means I was doing pro-bono therapy and babysitting kids at night. A year passed and I found myself living in a dank, dark, tiny ass studio all alone.

Enter: the stray cat of Javasti.

This poor little thing had been scrounging around in the back of the shop for a few days when another employee gave in to her incessant starvation mode meowing and bought a can of wet cat food. Little did Iris (the human) know the course of events that she had just initiated. 

Iris placed the can of food in the milk fridge. I walked in the next morning and the owner simply stated "I don't want to know anything about it, I just want it gone." The cat was out of the bag (sorry, I had to), and it was time for us to make a decision. We put a notice on craigslist with no response. Next course of action, one of us had to take her home. I hate cats, I live in a studio, I barely make enough money to feed myself and keep PBR in the fridge, so obviously the choice was clear: I needed this cat. 

I immediately rode my bike home and came back with a laundry basket and a towel. This is the Ballard version of a cat crate. I grabbed the cat, tossed it in the basket, threw the towel over it and ran through the coffeeshop out to my car. It was like I had made a prison break, only no one was trying to keep the cat. 

I took her to my studio, threw her inside and then drove to PetCo to get all the essentials in colors that would match my apartment. I also signed up to be a rewards member, because why the hell not? My key ring looks pretty awesome with all of that flare!

After setting up everything, the cat and I had a little chat where I explained that we were poor and that she would only be eating dry food, but to get over it because she was a stray after all and she should just be happy to be alive.

I took her to the vet after saving my tips up for a week. She only weighed 5.5 pounds, and based on her jacked up teeth (which needed tons of work) she was 5 years old. When they asked what her name was, I replied "Iris". Obviously, I got into this because of that can of wet food she bought, so the cat needed to be named after her. 

Iris loved to wake up at 2am and jump on me and meow. In a studio, there is no where to put a meowing cat other than the bathroom, which she hated, and I could still hear her shrill little meow. So, Iris became an outdoor cat. I opened the door and chucked her outside. She loved it! Except, she seemed to attract fleas like I attract tattooed assholes, and similarly she was allergic....and this would be the downfall of our relationship.