“Why is Leo more hardcore than me?” you might ask if you knew my gerbil’s name is Leo, which you now do. It’s really simple, actually. Imagine that you had cancer. Go ahead. It sucks, huh? You definitely care that you have cancer, right? That right there is why Leo is more hardcore than everyone but Batman.
Leo has cancer, but he doesn’t care. Not even a little. He just keeps doing what he’s doing. Sometimes, I talk to him about this. I wonder aloud to him at what point he’s going to start caring about his cancer. The humans noticed his cancer in March or April and were all, “Omg, Leo has a tumor on his belly. Soon, we will have to put him down, and that will be super sad since we just put his brother, Sirius, down.” But Leo just kept conquering a toilet paper tube as if to say, “Be cool, humans. I don’t even care. I’m hardcore.”
So, we decided to be cool like Leo suggested and the tumor grew and grew and we were like, “Leo, that’s getting really big. Don’t you think you should care about that?” and Leo kept nomming on a sunflower seed as if to say, “What did I say about being cool, humans? I’m hardcore. Don’t even worry about it.” And we didn’t worry about it. But we kept waiting for him to care…
Then one time in late May, he noticed his tumor and scratched it. We saw that he had been messing with it and thought, “Well, this is the end. He’s going to get himself infected, and we’re going to have to put him down. It’s a good thing he’s old and lived a comfy life.” And Leo just kept running in his wheel as if to say, “You’re still not being cool, humans. Yeah, I scratched it; it hurt; I decided to leave it alone. I’m still hardcore; I’m so hardcore that I think with semi-colons.” And we decided to finally, officially be cool and let him tell us when he was going to care and stop being so bad-assedly hardcore.
It’s mid-July now, and Leo is still hardcore. More hardcore than me, you, and everyone… except Batman.
You may now be asking, “Kitty, wtf was that all about? Why did you tell us about Cancer Boy the Rodent Wonder?” Maybe it was my way of explaining the pitfalls of adopting middle-aged rodents that you know have only 1-2 years left of life. Maybe I was looking around my study today, jotting down blog ideas, and heard the click click click of Leo drinking from his water bottle. It was probably that I mentioned my cancerous gerbil in passing in my first entry and felt the need to explain that Leo is not a poor, dying gerbil but a bad-ass, hardcore, nearly-geriatric gerbil who could totally kick everyone’s butts in an optimism competition.