Because this blog is in fact named after our dearest kitty GaterBait, there should be a kitty post every once in awhile. In fairness to the hierarchy of kitties, I should first tell you about GaterBait.

The story of GB goes back even before she was found, when J was a kid living in Florida. He had a few (probably questionable) friends, who invited him gator hunting. To start the trip they went to Walmart where they found an abandoned kitten hanging around the dumpster. The kitten, a baseball bat, and .22 pistol went out into the airboat with (a probably scared) J. In order to get a gator you must first lure them to your boat, which is where the kitten comes in. They tied a piece of string around it and threw it out into the water. The kitten starts to cry and wail and flail around in the water, attracting the alligators. Then you pull the kitten back towards the boat, and “git yer gator!”. This traumatic, but memorable experience is something J only did once.

When GaterBait was found in the attic, J said she was good for nothing but “gater bait” and it stuck. Poor thing turned out to be a girl (we think, although never truly confirmed) and had to suffer through living in a bachelor pad. Regardless, she adored J. He saved her and fed her through an eye dropper, bonding them for life.

This bond did not include me. At all. GB would hide around corners and latch onto my legs trying to kill me, or possible gnaw my leg off, she hated me so much. Even though I tried to hug her, and squeeze her and carry her around. We never really saw eye to eye.

But I still did enjoy some good GB time. She was a funny cat to live with. First of all she liked water. On hot Alabama days she’d sit on the pool steps up to her neck to cool off and then come in the house looking like a wet lion. She was a normally fluffy cat, except that J shaved her to a short hair. Which was probably good since it is hot down here and she liked to be outside. She liked to be outside so much she broke through the locked plastic kitty door and we had to buy another one. I didn’t know a small cat could be so strong.

GB also enjoy laying on her back in a strange twisted position throwing her legs in one direction and her front paws in the other. She liked chewing on J’s toothbrush, staring into space for an abnormal amount of time, pooping in the bathtub (or sink if that was her only option) and sitting in the big red pickup (although being an actual passenger is questionable as she threw up in her cage once traveling to KY, or maybe she did it cause she hates me and knew where she was headed.)

She did not like being held, people besides J, chasing laser pointers (I think she figured them out and wouldn’t amuse me anymore) or other cats. She also did not like pickled eggs, which we know because J used to feed her strange things, and although she gobbled it down, she puked it back up shortly after.

And then one day in the spring of 2012 GaterMcBaitus disappeared. She did not die… that we know of. And I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if she randomly breaks back through the locked kitty door. I’m not in denial that our cat is still alive, it’s most likely she got hurt, or hit by a car and died. But GB was also smart, and she could have just found someone she liked to torture better than us.