Thursday, August 14, 2008

Our psychotic cat

OK, so anyone who knows me or about me knows that, for the past four months, we have been diligently and systematically remodeling our house. When I say "remodeling", I mean damn near demolishing the inside and replacing it. The kitchen, dining room, laundry room and two closets are affected presently, with projects in the works for two bedrooms and both bathrooms. I guess that's the price one pays for an 80 year old house that's been abused in the past. But I digress...

Anyways, we have this cat. He is the most frighteningly psychotic freak cat you'll probably ever meet. He is nothing but a bulimic shit factory! If he's not puking somewhere, he'll drop a load somewhere else. He rarely uses his litter box for its intended purpose, and he has recently come to use the remnants of the dining room and the nearly-completed kitchen as his litter box. Now, I can tolerate it for a while, but when it comes daily, and sometimes multiple times daily, I get agitated. Yesterday, after his second 'visit' to the kitchen (where I was slated to install the new floor on the same day), he dropped a steaming load right in the middle of the kitchen floor. Well, to say "I lost it" probably doesn't do it justice. I hunted the cat down, and proceeded to plant him smack dab in the middle of said pile. Upon his subsequent rapid departure, I took a shot at him with the right foot, landing him squarely against the wall.

Now, before you sic the SPCA on me, let me say that this was done in an absolute fit of rage. Normally, I just make my normal bitchy comment about it, and the mess is cleaned up--typically by my spouse. This time, it was a bit different. I don't know what happened, but I just went ape shit. I'm not one to abuse animals--at all. My wife is now very upset with me, and after a visit to the vet to make sure all was well, she's not speaking to me. By the way, the cat has no broken bones--a dirty coat of fur and maybe a bruise or two is about it. Oddly enough, I've never pounded this cat before, and won't again. It was just a series of mishaps that lead up to this whole incident, and the planets must have lined up just wrong or something.

So, the cat will be fine in a day or two. He's none too happy to see me living and breathing at the moment, and I can't say my wife is, either. The vet probably thinks I'm a horrible person, and I guess this one time, I probably am. I'm not really a 'cat person' to begin with, but when the cat doesn't like to be held or doesn't like to do things a normal cat does, I just don't have a lot of use for it. But, like a bad burrito, this too shall pass.

That's all of my venting for now. I just had to say it so I'd know it had been said. I'll get back to my life and see what comes of tomorrow. Until next time...

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