Kitty Sexual Politics.

Over the Summer I sat in my backyard a lot. Drinking strong expresso coffee and smoking clove cigarettes.
In retrospect I realise I was doing some hardcore thinking. Sitting on the concrete steps, taking in the vibe of my new house and settling into singledom, sometimes wondering if what mum had told me about sitting on concrete and heamerrhoids was true.
I was never alone out there though, somewhere in my sight would be a neighbourhood cat, skulking around a rose bush or walking like a supermodel on the chain link fence.
I woed those kitties with bodega cat food and scraps from the fish shop.
I made them my furry new mates.
Soon enough a mama cat brought her kittens over to meet me, I would hand feed them imagining that I was like a urban Diane Fossy taming the wild beasts of the Brooklyn Jungle.
It wasn't long before I made mental notes of what boy cat had shagged what girl cat, who's babies were who's etc. I concerntrated mainly on the cats that hung in mine and neighbouring yards.
What I came up with was something like this...


Then it all started to get complicated, like the family tree of some hillbillies, which freaked me out a little, so I stopped.
Moral of the story is that cats are slutty.