Tuesday, May 18, 2010
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I relate. I had a female roommate once upon a time who had a cat that hated me, and the feeling was mutual. The damned thing would stalk me... it took a piece out of my ear one afternoon while I was sitting on the couch, minding my bid'niz, watching a football game. It also loved to climb my speakers, just another one of the damned thing's endearing traits. So... fast forward... I was TDY from NoDak down to Florida for a couple o' months in November/December and roomie had to go TDY to Minot for a week. She asked a mutual friend to take care of the cat while she was gone; said friend went over to our house to feed the cat and it bolted out the door... into the NoDak winter, temp minus-something-way-below-zero. Friend called and called, looked and looked but the cat was nowhere to be found. Roomie found it the following week upon her return, frozen stiff. She swore up and down that Friend and I conspired to kill her cat. I never even laughed, to my great credit. Coz I was a Sensitive Seventies kinda guy. I'm also a dog person.
ReplyDeleteAndy, This funny reminded me of your geetar war post of Jim Stafford and how he said you could make gut strings for your geetar. Remember? Like Buck, I'm a dog guy. We owned only one cat (got him for my 6 year old son after a stray cat he adopted left for parts unknown). Luckily this cat, which had many of the same traits Buck mentions above, found the warm motor of my neighbor's car to his liking. I'm not sure if it was the fan blade or belt that got him, but what was left was just a glob of white fur (she was a siamese meanie psychocath of the first order).
ReplyDeleteWhen my kids were little, there was a cat that ran into the house when we opened the door. You wouldn't see him, then suddenly - whoosh - he'd be in. He would go under the bed and I'd have to get a broom to get him out. Just run it under the bed and he would come out. My daughter, who was about 3 at the time, would stand there yelling 'don't hurt that cat'. I had no intention of hurting him.
ReplyDeleteThen, one morning as I backed the car out of the carport, I saw something lying there. It was the cat. Dead. I swear I didn't do it. I ran inside, grabbed a towel and bundled the kitty up. Had it buried before the kids woke up. They never knew.
My daughter has been reading your blog some, hope she doesn't see this one!
Heh! It seems that I've gotten some "Amens" from my fellow understanders of this thing.
ReplyDeleteMy baby brother had a cat that he loved dearly. When his first ex-wife threw him out, Smokey had to have a place to live. The Mrs., being the kind hearted soul she is offered to keep Smokey. Huge mistake. Smokey had a "hunting accident" a few months later (if you know what I mean).
Buck, Dan, and Jim...trust me...I am not a cat hater. Okay, don't trust me. But, I am a dog lover (and the two do not seem to ever walk hand-in-hand in a REAL sense).
Jim, I grew up with cats. Hobo would climb up the brick wall and ring the doorbell until one of us kids would come open the door so he could get in. I'm not kidding. And, I must say that if your daughter is visiting this blog occasionally, you were a terrible father. Just sayin'...btw...I've got your blue & purple iris bulbs when you're ready.
Buck, that story is so funny that I almost wished I'dabeenthere! I can just see the chick's eyes darting around filled with suspicion. Kittysicle! My kinda' cat...
Dan, you reminded me of one of the worst/funniest moments of my life. I was a student at LA Tech, and was hanging out at the Baptist Student Union (yep...a good place to be...away from the temptations of college life), and Toad Timms went out to start up his '72 Impala...
It was bad...
From then on he was called "Toad The Cat Killer" by several hundred of his friends. It was the fan...not the belt.
Amen from another dog person!
ReplyDeleteSomehow my friends tend to be cat people -- which I've never understood. One Christmas I volunteered to take care of JB's 2 cats over Christmas while she and family went "back home." My younger and I went the day after JB left to feed the kitties and found only one, Miss Kitty. We called and called for Smokey, and shook the food box and searched, to no avail. I figured Smoky would be okay if he had gotten outside because it was a mild winter that year, and the kids had a playhouse. And he often brought little "love offerings" to JB in the form of some or other critter carcass, so he wouldbn't starve. I left a note for JB explaining the situation.
When JB got home, she called me, laughing so hard that she was nearly crying. It seems that her younger had been playing "dress up" with Smokey before they left. Smokey wasn't very cooperative, so Leah put him in "jail" in the clothes hamper, all dressed up, to punish him. JB heard a noise in the girls' room, and when she opened the hamper she was greeted by one ticked off kitty-missile!
We always checked hiding/detention places for missing kitties after that.