After doing hard time for mercilessly exploiting dogs for fighting and having a judge prohibit him from ever owning another one, football star Michael Vick says he still wants one. He thinks it would help his rehabilitation, and he misses having a pet around the house.
OK, I have a better idea. Instead of a dog, Vick should get a cat. And not just any cat, but…
A full-grown, street-wise tomcat. His attitude toward humans is that thumbs make them good for operating a can opener and wielding a litter scoop. Period.
This cat should preferably be black, so if Vick harbors any superstitions, he’ll start feeling real lucky whenever he manages to avoid being tripped by the cat on the stairs in the dark.
And whenever Vick fails to dodge the cat’s interceptions, he can chalk it up to “rehab.”
It should be a cat who tolerates some petting (just how much varies day to day) and then screams and sinks his claws and teeth into whomever is petting him whenever they exceed his secret time limit.
This cat will have confidence to spare, taking possession of (and shedding on) any piece of furniture that looks comfortable, and sacking out right in the middle of Vick’s bed every night.
The cat will never come when called, refuse to learn tricks, and disappear if Vick even thinks about trying to discipline him.
And if Vick does or says anything that displeases the cat, he will spray all over any object Vick treasures, including electronic devices.
I think only after Michael Vick has experienced a few years of being owned by a real “cat’s cat,” he’ll have a clearer understanding of how he totally blew it when he had trusting, obedient dogs.