Congratulations on Saving the Kitty Cat!

People love their pets, it’s true. But you’re a paramedic, a professional. When people ask you to do mouth to mouth on their dog or shock their poor little hamster back to life you tell them to go fuck themselves or just dose the poor critter up with morphine so it’ll die nice and quiet. It doesn’t make you popular, murdering injured pets, but it’s what you believe in and you stick with it.

Or you did. Until today.

Today you’ll get a call about a “Mister Pawz” who has apparently sustained some sort of serious injury. When you arrive you’ll find an adorable kitten whose foreleg was broken in a door. An incredibly attractive man will be weeping open with the kitten in his arms.

“Please,” he’ll plead between sobs. “You have to help her.”

“Mister Pawz is a woman?” you’ll ask, matter-of-factly. The weeping man will nod.

“I thought,” he’ll start, choking up halfway through his sentence. “Thought it would be funny.”

You’ll nod solemnly and consider euthanising the poor kitten to spare it its owner’s stupidity. But then you’ll look into those baby blues and realize that you can’t kill an animal this cute, even if its owner is an incredibly dumb hot guy. You’ll also look at the guy’s ass and wonder if saving his cat could be a lead in for a quickie with him in a week or two when he gets over the cat thing. You want to wait that long because some men cry during your aggressive love making sessions and that’s an incredibly big turn off for you.

After a moment’s pause you’ll get down and examine the animal’s shattered limb. You’ll spare the incredibly dumb owner your usual lecture about 9-1-1 being a real resource that is used to save lives and not a fucking toy for people who don’t have lives outside of their pets and immediately spot the problem (the kitten’s leg is basically ruined and needs to be splinted) and quickly fashion a makeshift splint from some bandages and popsicle sticks that the incredibly stupid pet owner (named Greg) had around for some “art projects” he was going to work on later.

You’ll disinfect the places where the bone poked through and give the owner some antibiotics that will keep the cat from developing an infection. Then you’ll give him your cell number and tell him to call you in a week to check in.

In the months to follow you’ll have really unsatisfying sex with Greg three times before you finally give and get an offer from Animal Planet to star on a show where professional paramedics rescue adorable animals. It will be called “Kitty Kat Krusaders,” and despite its terrible acronym it will make you rich as fuck.

Congratulations on Saving the Kitty Cat!