Dr. Zoidberg has been with our family for over 7 years. He was a little baby marked for euthanizing when we found him through a rescue service. Dr. Zoidberg is a Hemingway polydactyl, which means he has extra toes. He is highly likely a descendent of Ernest Hemingway's brood of kitties, as he used to be an avid breeder of polydactyl cats.
Polydactyl cats tend to be experts at navigating ropes and are well adept at ship life. Hemingway was given a six toed cat when he lived near a Key West port. He purportedly bread these cats to give to ships captains where he lived next to the port, which act as extremely good mousers during voyages out at sea. As you can imagine, being out to sea for several months means that food rations are coveted. And where you find stockpiles of food you are going find mice and rats.
So Dr. Zoidberg is actually the descendent of a line of great warriors and valiant regal hunters. Unfortunately polydactyl cats also tend to have other genetic abnormalities, such as the early decay of teeth. Poor Dr. Zoidberg has been completely toothless since he was two. So he's got this deep internal desire to hunt and kill on one hand and a complete ignorance of the outside world on the other. He used to chitter at the window to little birdies taunting him. He was big, he was bad, he could take anything down.
You have to understand Dr. Zoidberg's sparring buddy is a cognitively challenged kitty named Abraham Lincoln who drools on himself and usually has one pupil bigger than the other. I am positive I also contributed to his overly inflated ego when pretending to be injured as Dr. Zoirberg tried to rip my flesh open as the savage beast he was in his heart, when in reality he just slid his wet slimey gums back and forth across my arm. Not a pleasant feeling by the way. But it sure beats when Abraham Lincoln shakes his head in your vicinity and salmon pate scented kitty slobber comes flying into your open mouth. I mean, what the fuck Abraham Lincoln! Really!?!
So you would think with all our contribution to Dr. Zoidberg's narcissism that he would have been a tad more ferocious on his first outing. Chittering at the little birds outside the window as always, he one day rushed the screen so hard it popped out of the frame. There went Dr. Zoidberg...flying out of the first floor window riding that screen on the way down like a magic carpet. I thought oh shit he's gonna run, being the ballsy adventurous type, you know. But there was no fierce hunter on that day. My poor baby landed on top of that screen into the ivy patch below and froze, crying a cry so loud and long I was sure he had broken a bone on impact. I tried to urge him to stand up because he was just out of reach lying down, but no go. He just laid there and wailed like he was dying. I had to go all the way around the corner of the complex to pick him up. When I reached him he was still screaming for help but when I picked him up the screen came up with him. He had wrapped every one of his 27 claws through that screen and he was too scared and shocked to let it go. I was laughing so hard I nearly peed my pants. So much for our brave little hunter and warrior. He was fine but he sure doesn't chitter at birds anymore.
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