Basically, a scientist has posited that Toxoplasma Gondii enters human hosts and then changes them to be predisposed to adoring kitties, thereby ensuring that there’s a good home for both the parasite’s host and the parasite. (As I write this, my elderly cat, George, is making sweet, sweet kitty-love to my laptop.  This is both cuter and more annoying than it sounds.) 

According to Rory, I am obviously thoroughly infested with  Toxoplasma Gondii — which has rendered me soft and squishy and prone to the blandishments of cute kitties.  To which I say, “Oh, crap, you might be right.” 

I say this because I brought home a rescue cat this week.   

I would tell you the long saga of how I ended up with said feline adorableness in my guest bedroom, but suffice to say:  Jerk-offs moved and left cat behind.  When told, “Hey, you forgot something,” Jerk-offs say, “Oh, that’s a stray.  We were just feeding it.”  At which point I decide that, though I’ve never met these people, they are, well, Jerk-offs.  I begin feeding cat.   

After gaining its trust, I take cat to vet — which it will someday forgive me for.  

I have cat tested for diseases, checked for neutering/spaying, have it given its shots, have vet de-flea cat, and then I bring cat home.   

Now The Dude thinks we have cat number five in the guest bedroom.  Despite my constant statements that this is not cat number five, but that I am merely fostering cat, he’s dubious. 

(One sec, gotta put Floyd up on the sideboard so he can eat.  Floyd is my other elderly cat.  He’s unable to jump up to get his food anymore.  Oh heck, Dave, cat number four in the rotation, needs petting.) 

Where was I? 

Oh yeah, new cat.  No, no, not new cat.  Cat I am fostering until I can find good home for it.  Honestly, I don’t know where The Dude gets these ideas about New Cat, er, cat I’m fostering. 

I have no idea if the whole Toxoplasma Gondii thing is real or not.  But if we do end up keeping New Cat (er, cat I’m fostering), now I have something to blame.