Tuesday, March 25, 2008

they call me the Eumenides

last night during dinner D looked out the window and frowned.

- what the... oh. look. skankyAsshat's eating a creature.
and so she was, nom nom nom, an indeterminate creature too far gone to save. still racked by a persistent fever with, as FMC put it so well, the strength of no kittens, i could only simmer with resentment at yet another wrong perpetrated by snorgoyles.
- hates them... i murmured. D tut-tutted disapprovingly and then filled me with venison roast in a valiant man-attempt to make me feel better.
by the grace of extra-strength TylenolPM i was sound asleep at 2am, less so at 2:30 when i was yanked into consciousness by the unmistakable sound of a cat puking. under the bed. with all the boxes i've shoved under there i don't know how a cat could fit, but one of them did.

- fuck ME - i moaned and struggled out from under my 8-blanket strata. i turned on the light and peered under the bed. it took me a while to find her amid all the boxes, but there she was, down by the foot of the bed where the blankets pooled in a big soft nest. no wonder my shoulders were always so cold; fucking skankyAsshat was stealing my covers. and there in that big soft nest were the rejected, partially-digested remains of the indeterminate creature.
- you miserable fucking bitch - i snarled through clenched teeth. OH i HATE you. 
i received a hostile "enhh" in response. Asshat doesn't meow; she punctuates. it's one of the more unpleasant noises you'll hear in your life.

i stumbled into the bathroom for a roll of toilet paper willing myself not to hurl. the cat was gone by the time i returned, and i swabbed and swept up the chunky pool of indeterminate creature with a lot of pissfuckshitcuntsuck-ing. if i'd any spare blankets i would have tossed all these into the wash, or burned them, but it's not like i can smell anything right now anyway.

i settled back in bed and read for the half-hour it took my heartrate to level. i turned out the light and was dropping into that lovely fuzzy state of sleep when i heard it. enhh. whatthefuck. ENHHHH. louder. you have fucking got to be kidding me. i vaulted out of bed with the warp spasm upon me and pulled up the covers to peer under the bed. she was hunched up against the wall at the head of the bed.
- ENHH - she challenged.
and it was war. i shoved boxes and slid books at her -- it was like Kitty Curling -- and even brandished a pair of scissors.
- i'll cut off your ears you fucking cat! - i yelled, before collapsing into a coughing fit.
- everything okay in there? - D called groggily from his own bed free of decaying-animal-cat-puke.
- FINE!! - i sang.
- ENHH! - said skankyAsshat.
- GIT - i growled and scuttled to other side of the bed. there i assembled a line of boxes and staged an advance much like the Duke of Cumberland's forces at Culloden. bitch didn't have a chance, and we routed her like a stinking swamp fox from her hole. she was a blur of black motion passing through the doorway.

'twas a pyrrhic victory, however, as it took me another 45min to get back to sleep. so today, yet another day spent working from home trying to kick this bug, i'm returning the favor. the Asshat settles to sleep by the kitchen door; jack and i gently nudge her aside so we can go out. she curls in the sun on the kitchen rug, i rearrange the oven pans (very noisy) until she leaves in search of someplace quieter. she takes refuge under the rocking chair, and not very long after her eyelids shut i am poking her out of the way as i sweep up dust mice. i'm not cruel, simply insistent. it will be a long day for the snorgoyle, but what comes around goes around. 


fatmammycat said...

This might come as a WILD suggestion, but why not lock them out of your bedroom at night? OR stick them in a shed/garage with their beds and food. That's what I do with my lot. Everyone seems happy with the arrangement. Peaceful night for some, miniature american flags for others.

finn said...

what an utterly reasonable suggestion. I may be able to sell it to D, who will survey me puzzledly after a night such as last and ingenuously ask, why didnt you just go back to sleep?

basement kitties sing this song, doodah doodah...

otoh, I am also open to any *less* reasonable suggestions -- the 'mindfucks and slaughter and hunting galore' ones. might you have some of those?

fatmammycat said...

Sure! Cat-apult, it's fast and it's efficient.

Bowling for kittehs, the fatter the cat the better the bowling, tiles make the best surface, Puddy the velly best ball.
My personal favourite fun game-played EXCLUSIVELY with the bigger of the cats is See Kitty Jump.
Fun for all the family and cheap as chips. Take one brown paper bag, fill with air from lungs, creep up on sleeping Kitty and BAM! That one never gets old. Just like giving me concussion every morning never gets old to him.

Nobody fucks with the Marklar, that one has enough problems, as well as lacking an eye he forgets where he is/who we are 100 times a day already. Sometimes he wake up and you can actually see him looking at his own paws in wonderment. Can't IMAGINE why his mother took him out of the litter so young.

finn said...

awwwww. tis a good thing then that a kind heart took him in.

I cannot wait to play See Kitty Jump. I have been practicing an alternate version on the fatter of the cats -- I have a coughing fit and she jolts out of her sound sleep -- but regretfully my prey has eluded me by escaping to the basement and taking refuge in a crawlspace. no worries. I have time. and patience.

fatmammycat said...

Patience is good, lulls them into a false sense of security. See Kitty Jump, is best played when cat are comfortable and deeply asleep.

finn said...

no one ever said, let sleeping cats lie.