Today is Annie’s birthday; I promised that this year I would finally share her stories on a wider scale. This year is a significant year for Annie, she is fourteen and in two years she will be able to legally get a license to drive a car.

She drives now; her fire truck, her tow truck, her limo, her dump truck. If it has wheels more than likely she has it. Most of the time she drives her scooter. Annie is fat and old, so that is how she gets around, one of those Walmart type scooters except hers is pink and purple with a flag, and horn. She teleports too but I am getting way ahead of things.

Annie is my cat and I am not entirely sure that March 23rd is her actual birthdate. It’s close and it’s the date we chose and stuck with.

Once upon a time about, 14 years ago, my daughter wanted a cat.  I was working this crappy factory job and one of my coworkers said he had a bunch of kittens under the porch of his trailer.   I told him I would take one of them and that I wanted a girl cat.  I got Annie.

My daughters  Jodi  and her sister Din-yell, walked over with me that morning to bring Annie home.  Except we didn’t know her name was Annie then.  She got named later on, Annastasia AnnaMaria Albergetti.

She wasn’t in a box or anything.  She was really tiny but she was also feisty.  She bit scratched and tried to attack both girls as they took her home and later she took a bite out of Jodi  finger trying to get a piece of cheese into her fat mouth before her mother could.

She did not want anyone holding her or petting her.   She was really kind of mean, however she slept in my bed that night along with her mom and from that night forward she always slept in the bed.

We were living in this old crappy yellow house and it was being sold to build a parking lot, so we had to move.  We rented another apartment in an old crappy house and were preparing to move.   Two weeks before we were to move,  Annie decided it was a good time to run away.

She had been doing it right along, getting out and playing a weird game of hide and seek. Her normal hiding place, the largest tree on the block and then our neighbor who often drank from a large bottle of liquid courage would prop five or six ladders up a tree and go after her; this time Annie was not up the tree or anywhere to be found.   I felt really bad because I loved Annie even though she was mean and bit and scratched and climbed trees.   I did not want to leave her behind.

The day before we moved, I heard Annie chirping outside my window.  Annie never meowed she chirped like a bird.   I hurried and ran to the door to let her in.   I screamed, “Annie where were you?”

She glared at me for a little bit, you know how cats do and then she said, “MIND YOUR OWN BEES WAX SLAM?”

After that she was very different.   She became a Little House on the Prairie addict, a fiddle playing, Rod Stewart loving, donut eating, tea drinking, out of control obnoxious cat.   She was really difficult to live with.

Somehow during this two weeks she was away;  she acquired a poop factory.   She makes poop into product which she in turn sells to various stores.   Sometimes that product is food.   She buys poop directly.   She classifies it by different texture, color, shape, smell; her grading systems she calls it.

She has a factory, which she has sort of dragged along with us every time we have moved.   She employees cats who have come across the border illegally.   She buys up a bunch of condemned houses and allows them to live there rent free.   She doesn’t fix them up or anything because she doesn’t want any over head.   She pays them with a snack wrap from Mc Donald’s one snack wrap per day per family.   They are happy to get it.   Annie teleports them from wherever they are at to her factory.

That’s another thing.   She does not know her colors she thinks she is pink and red but sometimes purple and yellow depending on the day.  She can not add one and one.  She can’t count above 3, and thinks KELMNOP is one letter but she built a teleporter.   Just built it.

So she teleports her workers over the border, which is  surprising because she is a big Trump supporter. I seriously think the reason she leaned that way was because it is easier to rhyme Trump with something than Clinton. Her first campaign slogan was, “I hump for Trump.”

This was way back in the very beginning when he announced he was running. I told her that the slogan was not very nice. Her response, “A camel hump, Slam!” Technically since my daughter Jodi is Annie’s mother, I am her Slam-mother.   That is how Annie says it…Slam mother because, “there is absolutely nothing grand about you Slam!”

I told her that the slogan made absolutely no sense, camel hump? It didn’t until Annie got a hump like a camel surgically implanted on her back. She doesn’t use the hump very often now, (yes she can take it on and off at will), but still wears it to Trump rallies. Her typical outfit is a Make America Great Again Hat and a Nasty woman shirt.

She voted both ways, and for Uncle Barney as well, (her affectionate name for Bernie….she loves old re-runs of the Flintstones.)  That whole voter fraud thing…’it’s Annie.”

Her poop factory is her big thing currently; she makes a lot of money.   She even has a commercial to solicit poop. It has a catchy jingle.

It goes, “I have a toilet full of poop and I need cash now. Call Annastasia 877-poop-now; if you have diarrhea and need cash now call annastasia 877-poop now.”

Money is really important to Annie.   It is pretty much her life.   Her money enables her to have her fleet of vehicles, her menagerie of animals; like her giant turkey named Clyde.

She bought several years ago for her Thanksgiving dinner, she fed him so much he grew huge, then she got attached and kept him.   She is always buying stuff off Amazon, and ebay and anyplace else.   I have never seen anyone spend so much money and so quickly.

I call Annie a part time billionaire because she makes a billion dollars a day but spends the same amount every day.   She borrows from me all the time and never pays it back.

It’s not just her poop factory that makes her money. She signs all of her illegal cat workers up for cat benefits and keeps it for herself, then complains when they cross the border but she only complains if they find a trade other than poop.

She is also able to clone herself, even in male form. No clue how she does it; she is Annie. She makes clones of herself, puts them in those zombie properties she collects, signs them up for cat benefits, makes them work in her poop factory and feeds them snack wraps.   She said she is benefiting the community though because she is keeping them off the streets.

Sometimes she needs the clones though, she calls them colognes though like the perfume.   She has multiple things she does on a daily basis. Some days, she goes to work with me, sometimes with one of my children, or she goes to school with my grand daughter, (Annie is a student at several schools and colleges) and she needs her clones to maintain all of her activities. Most of the time, she lays around the house eating (she wants to be on my 600 pound life and hoarding buried alive), and her clones do all the work. Occasionally if there is a school closing due to a snow storm, that particular school was the one she WAS personally going to go to for the day.; because she loves snow days.

You would think a cat smart enough to start a factory that recycles poop into product and a cat who can clone herself, would be classified as a genius, however with Annie that just isn’t the case.  Like I said, she doesn’t know her colors and although we have told her she is black and white she insists she is red and pink, unless she dyes herself which seems to be at least once a month. Most recently it was green (bright orange) for St. Patrick’s Day.

It’s a busy hectic lifestyle living with Annie.  Her best friend is a dog, a zombie dog named Kiko.   Kiko was a brown lab named Cocoa but Annie could not spell Cocoa so she just called him Kiko.  He and Annie had been pals for quite sometime, before he died and because she was not willing to part with him she turned him into a zombie.

They really have a lot in common.   Kiko plays a banjo and Annie plays her fiddle.   It’s chaos most of the time with the pair of them.    They have their jam sessions along with their Uncle Rov who plays the guitar.   They play poker several nights a week and pool.  Then of course, their shows.

Annie has certain shows she really loves and then will binge watch all the episodes.  Little House for one, The Walking Dead is another one, the Flintstones, Captain Kangaroo.  She has a number of them but sometimes she will start acting out certain shows.

Like one time she was Mary from Little House she had ‘been’ her for about a week and one day we were in Walmart; Annie loves Walmart and she starts screaming at the top of her lungs, “Pa I am blind! I am blind.”   She was sitting in the baby seat wearing her bonnet,  waving her arms around and knocking stuff over.  I was humiliated, and if that were not enough, this old lady came up to me and hit me with her cane and yelled, “Help her Pa!”

So that is how it is, my life with Annie, just one endless cycle of things happening.   Now as a birthday gift, I am telling the world about life with Annie.

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