Meanest cat ever.

I once had a cat I named Rigsby, after this character from "Rising Damp." Meanest fucking feline I ever met. He never purred, never played, never cuddled. All he ever did was attack, piss on my clothes, and stink up the gaff.

I don't think he liked his name.

I took him to Maine with me on vacation, because I didn't want to make my roommate care for the ungrateful little bastard, or open the two storey window and throw him into oncoming traffic while I was gone. I sincerely thought this was a possibility, as I had contemplated doing the same, more than once.

Anyway, my mother didn't quite understand the concept of 'indoor cat,' and let him out, and he never returned. Or maybe she just hated the beast as much as everyone else did (except me, I liked him. Didn't love him, but...), and decided he'd be better off taking his chances in the Maine woods, but he was gone. When I got back, two weeks before we were to move to a new apartment, my roommate, with one of those half-smiles you give someone when you're giving them bad news and you're kind of gleeful about it, "Guess what, the new apartment doesn't allow cats."

I replied, equally gleefully, "Gues what, we don't have a cat."

I wasn't sad, you see.