pyroguysr's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mom's Cat OK, a few of you have been bugging me to go back to putting down my observations on life. Since I recently went home, I've a couple essays to post. Here's one about Mom's Cat: SSSSSSNOWBALL, you fuckin' furball When my brothers come over, she will usually just run and hide under mom's bed. But when I'm there, she will charge and slash at me. She hates me, I tell ya. Everyone who knows me knows that I am very much a cat person. Cats generally like me, even cats that hiss at most people will come to me. They hop into my lap, rub against me and purr. Some even let me rub their bellies. Even feral cats generally let me pet them after a few times of feeding them... not this one! And it's not that she's feral. When Snowball was about 8 months old, my brother went "looking for a housecat for mom," picked her out at the Humane Society and saved her from termination! She fuckin' purred for him then, rubbing up against the side of the cage as if to say "please take me home with you!" My brother, being the sucker that he is and thinking he'd found the most loveable cat in the world, did so. Opportunistic feline! Every morning, mom gets up at 10 and reads the paper at the kitchen table, placing the perused sheets on the chair next to her. Snowball will stand on the table top (something that was a BIG no-no for our housecats when I was younger) getting affection and gentle words of love from my mom while she is reading, waiting until all the sheets are on the chair so that she can sit on them. Snowball will then walk to the edge of the table and plop down on the pile, getting a bit more affection until mom decides she wants to get up and watch the news on TV, a gameshow or play her incessant hands of solitaire. That chair then becomes Snowballs' throne for the next few hours. Much to her consternation, I interrupt that regal sit each day I'm there as I prepare some food or just walk in and talk to mom. Now, you have to be close to mom to talk to her because she's pretty much deaf in one ear and can't hear out of the other. That and she doesn't always have her hearing aide installed or turned on in the morning (which explains why we rarely call her before 3 pm). If I stand too close, Snowball will sit there, glaring at me as I talk to mom or make my breakfast. Should I get too near to where she's perched, she will hiss, swipe at me with razor-sharp claws that have never been trimmed and promptly jump off the chair, scurrying to a hidey-hole. As far as I'm concerned, that damned cat can stay there. I've tried to make peace. I've fed this cat for a month while mom was in the hospital, cleaned out the litter box, bought her toys and treats, tried to play with her or show her affection and still can't even touch her without severe loss of skin and blood. (Now, as far as my sis-in-law, Karen, and my ex, Johanna, are concerned, Snowball is all purrs and cuddles - women can do no wrong! Goddamned feminist cat!) But this cat has a special dislike for me. She stalks me. She glares at me. She studies me. She's noticed that I will pick up the paper about an hour after mom's read it... just about in time for my third cuppa of the day. She glowers when I pick up the paper. Every day she gives me the evil eye from under the chair, pissed that I've moved her "cushion," even though I put the papers back in the same spot so that Snowball can continue her queenly routine - even though she know's mom is going to shoo her off eventually and put the paper out on the back porch in the recycling bin at 1 pm each day. On this day, though... on this particular morning, she sees that I'm reaching for the newspaper. She attacks! She hisses and hops up on the paper just as I'm touching them. And proceeds to gak all over them. I stand there in shock, watching her technicolor hurl spew all over the headlines. She then gives me a self-satisfied look before she tries to slice my hand open when I attempt to clean it up. I'm telling you right fuckin' now that this cat is gonna be in the same coffin as mom when she goes... That is... if I don't kill the damned hairball sooner! Until then, I shall read my copy of "101 Uses For A Dead Cat"... and stare back at her, chuckling menacingly. 2:05 p.m. - 2005-01-07 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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