Felito, El Gatito

So I wish that I could write about something else right now (chopeando the whole day, for example, cutting down beautiful trees and plants in order to plant a monoculture canuco, a garden of one or two starchy vegetables, or a baseball game played a few days ago in between a river and on a hill, the clear objective hitting it on the hill, shrubbed and totally indefensible, or the stoning of a beautiful baby bird by a grou

p of Dominican adolescents) but my cat, Felito—on my lap,          ````````````now on the keyboard (yes, his contribution), now back on my lap, now eating the computer wires—has made an exploration of any other subject impossible.

This is my first cat (he’s now licking his privates), and he serves the indispensable purpose of keeping the rats away (he’s the first defense, the mosquito netting, I’ve heard, is not for the mosquitoes).  But the cost of his being here could outweigh a visit or two from Ratatouille.  Let me explain:

1)  He eats through my mosquito netting, creating holes for who knows what to get in at night.

2)  He “does his business” in the shower and then, I’m convinced apologetically, curls up in my lap, leaving behind on my shirt evidence of his indiscretion.

3)  He jumps on my head while I’m sleeping, trying to get into my bed, a right reserved for my dog in Chevy Chase, Shadow. At first, terrified that a giant animal was eating my face, isn’t it amazing what human beings can become accustomed to?

4)  He enters our food container every time we open it.

5)  His cat food, in that very container, has made everything else smell like dried disgustingness, or whatever it is these creatures eat.

6)  He’s too smart: every time I throw him out of the house, he finds some way to get back in (we do have various holes in the house, but we can’t figure out how’s he’s entering).

7)  He’s not a dog.

OK cat lovers, give me your best shot.  Why should I keep him around and not give Felito to a group of Haitians whom, according to Dominican lore, will cook him for dinner?  As Ratatouille would most certainly say, “bon appétit!”  He’d also surely have a great recipe…