Found Cat

Alert #79455

Status: FOUND
Date Found: August 16, 2025
Location Found: Waco, TX
Sex: Male
Species: Cat
Description: White domestic shorthair

Message from Finder:

This cat was visiting my front porch every night at dusk. He was so consistent I was starting to wonder if he was real or some AI situation. Anyway, I managed to get him into my house. He didn’t just waltz in when I opened the door. I had to catch him, which I managed to do with a lasso fashioned out of a shoestring from a pair of over-the-knee boots I had from my failed stint as a dominatrix (don’t try switching up careers in your late 40s lol). I didn’t lasso him like a cowboy on the range, I eventually saw that wasn’t going to work. But I realized if I left one end of the boot string laying in the yard while I hid behind my front door and dragged it slowly toward the porch, the little fellow would follow it all the way up. Then I got my son Carl to run around and slam the porch gate shut. That’s how we got him in.

He spent the first week or so hiding under the couch, only coming out to eat when we were sleeping. Then after about a week, he turned into a totally different cat. He let me pet him, he was rubbing up on my leg. It’s like a switch flipped. Maybe it did. I am starting to wonder if the cat is some government plant sent to spy on me. But that can’t be true, because I’ve got nothing they would be interested in. My last ex-husband on the other hand. But let’s not get into all that.

I’m only posting here out of due diligence, because I am planning on keeping this cat. I don’t care if he is an AI cat. Better if he is. Real cats are selfish little bastards. At least a cat engineered by humans will have the capacity to love. Humans are cursed with a need for love, and anything they make is going to be built to give it. Carl told me once that in Japan, AI pets are more popular than real ones. Maybe this cat is from Japan.

The problem with real cats is they have a will. I guess dogs do too, but a dog’s will has to do with what humans want. A cat does not give a shit. But this one living in my utility room, where he sleeps in the dryer and craps in a cardboard box filled with sand from Carl’s old sandbox, he gives a shit, I think, maybe on account of him being AI or whatever.

You might be wondering if he poops and pees like a normal cat. He does. His bowel movements are frequent and not pleasant. I think maybe the engineers couldn’t get the GI system down right. He throws up a lot too. Makes sense, everybody knows cats are always throwing up.

He sure scratches like a real cat. The back of my utility room door looks like a wigged-out beaver got a hold of it. He scratches and scratches, but when I holler he stops and goes back to his dryer.

I’ve had cats before. They were mostly no-account dipshits who just stunk the place up. And the girl cats were little hussies always pumping out kittens like it was their job. The only cat I ever liked was Carl’s Cat. That’s what we called him, “Carl’s Cat.” That was like his name after a while.

Carl got him when he went to culinary school for that one semester, before he came back home. No surprise there, kid could hardly fry an egg. Anyway, he brought this cat back home with him. I guess he got it as a companion for his first place where he lived by himself. It was ugly as bull beef, a fat little tortie with a pug-nose. It constantly had dingleberries in the fur around its anal area. But I put up with it because that cat loved me. It was like genetically different than a normal cat. I would come home from Bruce’s ( a tavern down the road, not a man’s house) and Carl’s Cat would just come and nuzzle me in the busted recliner Carl brought home from his apartment. We’d sit there and watch the news, which was like watching the world circle the drain.

Carl’s Cat died when we were in Branson. It was just me and Carl and his friend Glenn who went. I told Carl to bring a girl, but he wanted to bring Glenn. Whatever. Before we left, I bought a big bag of Friskies and sliced it open with a box cutter and left it next to Carl’s Cat’s litter box. So it wasn’t like he starved. I’m pretty sure he had the feline AIDS or something. Carl buried him in the back yard with the others.

This one reminds me of Carl’s Cat. I think I’m going to call him Carl’s Cat Jr., or maybe just Carl’s Jr.

Back where I’m from, Carl’s Jr. is called Hardee’s. I used to go there for sausage egg biscuits on the way to the college. What’s crazy is some mornings I wake up and I’m still there. In Ohio. There’s this train that goes by the house in the middle of the night, and when it wakes me up I think I’m still in Ohio. I really think I’m actually there. My ex-husband is still there too, and I still work at the college cafeteria serving rich kids chicken tendies and french fries. Eventually I remember I’m here, but then I can’t remember the name of the town. And it’s not like it’s hard to remember. “Wacko Waco” Carl’s step-dad used to call it.

Carl is moving out. He said he can’t be the one to take care of me. He’s definitely got things backward there. We’ll see how he does out there on his own. I can tell you this much, Carl’s Jr. is here to stay. Carl told me that I’m “cuckoo for cocoa puffs” and that Carl’s Jr. is chipped and his owner is out there. He made me post this. What he doesn’t know is I found a guy on Craigslist who will remove that chip for $50. Me and Carl’s Jr. are going to meet him later this week. I’m so lucky I found him.