My sister knows that I don’t take no sitting around, and for my whole adult life she has lovingly planned crazy activities for us when we visit, so I always give her the benefit of the doubt. We have entered a curling tournament, used heavy construction equipment, and rented out a ninja gymnasium. All somewhat ridiculous in their own right but nothing even close to Cat Circus. Amity. 

If you’re wondering why I have no amazing pictures, this one time it’s not my fault. 

I try to be positive on this blog, except for Dodge City, but what the hell did I just sit through.

I’ve never yearned so much for my child to need to get up mid-show and take a shit. 

I wish I just donated twice the ticket price to their non profit and saved my soul two hours in hell.

Sometime they would have a cat do the same trick six or seven times which would be awesome if it was a fucking trick.

I’d have preferred a mat circus, the kind at your front doorstep. 

A hat circus would have at least featured a flip. 

A bat circus, now that sounds fucking cool.

They trained a chicken to walk to food, it’s the same degree I trained my chickens by feeding them fucking food. 

I’ll sleep better knowing I have only seven people reading my blog and that no one who cares will ever see my absolutely correct review.

As I’m writing this, a full grown adult man yelled out “you can do it Austey!” To a fucking cat. 

The cat was perfectly not performing to the same degree that every single other cat didn’t perform to. 

You know what I recommend after a six mile backpack trip, a fucking amateur cat circus. 

The best part was that occasionally one of the disobedient cats would randomly make their way through the audience and you could reach down and pet one. I repeat, the best part was you had a chance maybe possibly to pet a cat while it walked by wanting nothing to do with you. 

The real show was staring at the real dedicated people in the crowd, totally amazed and enthralled, each covered in AcroCat merch, each sitting next to a partner whose eyes skewed confused as fuck just like mine, but who were far more supportive than I can be. 

The good will she has put forth for cat rescue is admirable but completely undone by whatever I just saw. 

When I see my kids cheering in the end I felt equal parts pleased that they are having fun and disappointed that they found this fun.

I really wish I could enjoy this as much as the fucking randos plastered with huge grins, but i am neither seven years old or a school girl with a hello kitty backpack.

With full blown ADD and ten days to live I would still choose to stair at a wall rather than sit through this again.

I’ve been zoned out writing this blog so long that I almost forgot I was stuck at a fucking cat circus. 

The moment when I saw a woman straining her neck to get a better view, I was praying she would say yes when I offered her my seat so that my view could be blocked.

I haven’t seen this sort of dedication to mediocrity since Rockies Baseball.

I’d take any single second of the past two day backpacking over this entire show.

Now my wife tells me this is some niche random shit and I don’t have the right vibe. This clicked with me, I’m doing this all wrong. This silliness is ridiculous. She’s right, my bad everyone. My kids begging to leave must be all wrong, this was great, thanks for the perspective. 

From pristine alpine lake to cat circus has there ever been a larger fall from greatness since Bill Cosby.

Uncle Russel turned to me and said he can’t tell if this was a legit cat circus or an ironic display to prove you can’t train cats. 

Now, next time someone asks if I want to go to a cat circus I know, instead Seppuku.