About Bella?

I started out this morning thinking I was going to write this or that about well, this or that.  Instead I am going to concentrate on... who the hell knows.  I started this BLOG in order to fuel my need to write, and to take a break from other projects.  I figured there are hundreds of good BLOG ideas out there so I will be able to sit down at the computer and just punch something out whenever I feel like it.
Ha! So, I sat down at the computer and came to the realization after ten minutes of non-typing that I am a crappy writer who can't come up with any good ideas, and who would want to read it any way etc, etc.  So I decided to ramble!  It, after all, still feeds my insatiable need to write something and will probably sink me in to an even deeper depression when I check (probably fifteen times over the next day or so) and realize that in fact no one is reading my BLOG which may be a blessing.
So today I am going to talk about Bella Rose.  Bella is a cat.  Now for all you cat haters out there, and I know you exist because not only did I used to be one but my father had a fear of cats that I am sure was in some way hereditary, just bear with me and read on you may enjoy it.
Bella was a gift to me on my birthday a couple of years ago from my wife who decided that giving me a kitten would make me a better person.   After all they are cute and they sit on your lap and purr, and they act like you are the only person alive, especially when they are hungry.  Lets face it they are master manipulators who couldn't give a damn about you or how you feel or anything.  They decide when they are going to be nice to you and just to let you know that they are in control, when you play with them they scratch the crap out of you  for fun.
Anyway, Bella and I became good friends.  I tried to ignore the fact that over the years Bella developed an eating disorder which means Bella ate her weight in food whenever she got the chance.  I decided to put her on a forced diet to get her to lose weight and she decided that sucked so she just went out and caught something to eat.  Of course she would always bring it (bird, mouse, and once I swear, another cat although I can't prove it) home and show me that she was still in charge as she dropped the remains of some poor creature on the carpet in front of me. I, of course, said good kitty and patted her which is exactly what she wanted me to do, and then I fed her something and got rid of the corpse on the floor before she realized it was gone.  So, as you can see I lost that battle and Bella continued to grow...
We then, 'we' being my beautiful wife, decided that we would get another cat for Bella to play with.  Enter Harley.  Day one of the Bella-Harley play date was a disaster with Bella growling at Harley and Harley knocking the crap out of Bella whenever he got the chance.  My wife always said that Bella was never taught how to be a cat because she didn't really have a mother to teach her.  She was raised by humans and did not know how to respond to 'cat talk' which evidently pissed Harley off so he would, as I said, beat the crap out of her at every opportunity.
So the battle continued and during that period of time Bella became neurotic and adopted the attitude that our home is her cat box.  Now before all you cat experts out there decide on how I should have handled this  let me just say that I am a man and I am in control of every situation!  So when Bella started pooping and peeing all over the house I did what every other man in the world would do when he didn't know what to do, I ignored it.
My spouse, on the other hand did not (ignore it that is) and after she had to clean up Pee for the hundredth time she made it clear to me that it was my cat and she should not have to clean it up all the time.  I tried the old, but honey I didn't see, smell, suspect it routine but she saw right through that immediately and let me know that I was not in charge she was (which as every married man knows, is true whether you admit it to yourself or not).
So I started watching Bella like a hawk when she was in the house.  She knew I was doing that and would go from room to room until I tired of it and either put her out or, yes, ignored her thinking that she would not dare pee in the house now because I was in charge (denial again) and she was just a cat.. She continued to pee, and I continued to miss it, and my wife continued to find it and, well you get the picture.
Yesterday, after an argument with my wife, I decided that It was time to find Bella a good home where she could pee to her hearts content and I would not have to keep being in denial about it.  The local animal shelter was my only hope, mainly because I asked my daughter if she knew anyone who would take Bella and she basically laughed in my face with that 'I couldn't do that to my friends' attitude.  We loaded up and went to the shelter and before I could get in the door a nice lady named Gin decided she wanted to take Bella home with her.  After a few questions, which I tried to be open and honest about ('tried' being the key word here), Bella went home with Gin and I went home to Harley who is now beating the crap out of another cat we have.
Suffice it to say I am depressed today and I miss Bella although I doubt she misses me much because I have been following her around the house for months and she was getting sick of it and me.