The Tempest

Not Exactly Shooting For \”Miss Congeniality\”

Just hearing it makes my skin crawl…

Posted by Daniel on Friday, April 21, 2006

No, I'm not talking about Bush or Rove or even Ann Coulter (though she does remind me of one of those wierd alien sluts Captain Kirk just had to screw in order to, yet again, free Mr. Spock).

I'm talking about our cats…and the stuff that comes out of them!! Eeeeewwww!!

What the hell IS it with these animals? Nature made them the sleek and (in my opinion) the coolest, hippest animals on the planet. They are pretty much self reliant, even when domesticated. You rarely (if ever) have to give them a bath. They know just where to go when they need to, well…go. Low maintenance. What could be better?? Okay, no comments from the "Pet Rock" fanatics. Up until recently, I thought the worst thing they did was spend hour after hour with hind legs thrown up to heaven, as they "toss their salads". It's really something for company to come over and, after Steve and I have hyped up the "kids" and their adorableness, the cat(s) in question saunter into the room, look around (highly unimpressed look on their faces), and plop down on the floor and "go to town" on themselves. While part of me is always embarrassed, another part of me feels jealous. Jeez, if I could do that, I'd never leave the house. But I digress…

Annie Tossing Her Salad

Funny thing about nature – She's a fickle bitch. She gives you a pet that is, for the most part, perfect. Then as she's walking away, she pauses, looks over her shoulder and says, "You know, I'm very proud of creating Annie and I'm very happy you're happy with her. But I don't want you to get spoiled, so I'm going to give your new pet some quid-pro-quo. First, she is going to have an attitude that is shitty beyond belief. And second, I am going to make her stomach ultra-sensitive…for no apparent reason and she will puke up some of the most hideous things without warning."

Okay, I'll admit, you do get a creepy warning…the cat will start wailing as though she's stuck in a well.

Our new cat, Annie (short for Annistasia Beaverhausen)(or, as I call her, "Get out of there!!") is still in the "baby" age (1-year), and about as adorable as she could be. She's also a serial killer in training. I swear she came from the "Pet Semetary", because she is about the most evil little Tazmanian Devil who enjoys nothing more than beating the snot out of our other 3 cats. I have to admit….it's funny and somewhat entertaining.

Her other talent is puking up some of the most vile stuff ever seen.

Our cats never go outside, but sometimes I swear she's eaten a bear, because that's pretty much what she coughs back up. I know, it's gross. But hey, I'm the one who has to put on the HAZMAT suit and grab the shovel, the Rug Doctor, and the rake (for those especially fluffy hairballs) each and every morning!! Trust me, you don't know the meaning of fear untill you're face to face with her icky alien progeny.

This morning I'm drinking my coffee, banging away at the PC (as I do every morning) when both Ian (the Tolerator) and Annie (the Terminator) sachet into my office and commence their hourly ritual of after-breakfast ass-kicking. It's pretty funny and a nice distraction from the PC screen. Of course, things tend to get out of hand (Annie's a little too butch for her own good) and the "fuzzy Daddy" (Me) has to intervene before the other two come in (interrupting their hourly ass-licking…eeewww!!) and a kitty free-for-all occurs.

Ian scrams (he's such a pussy!!) and Annie sits there looking at me defiantly as if to say, "You interrupt my work one more time, 'Giver-of-the-Kibbles', and you're next!" I shake the stern-daddy finger at her and then turn back to my work.

My reward for meddling is on it's way up.

Off to the side, just out of my periphery, I hear it. It's coming…and this one sounds BIG!! The sound. Oh, gawd, the sound!! It's the hideous sound of someone banging on a door that is made of mud! You know that scene from Gremlins where it gets wet and icky things start bubbling up? Yeah, that's even less gross than what Annie's cooking up. That sound…"ulp, ulp, ulp, ulp…".

I want to run. Run far away. But I just know I'll end up doing the ultimate "Eeewww!!"…I'll step on it. (yes, Annie's a bit of a barf trail-er)(what can I say…she's gifted..her daddy and I are so very proud of her)
Then, after what seems an eternity of wheezing and "Ulping", it's born.

The Worm Guy
The evil no legged thing from Poltergeist II. I scream, "Jeebus, Annie…make it stop!!"

No such luck. She's doing it and (I just KNOW) thinking, "This is so – ulp – pretty. I'm sure my – ulp – daddy will want me to – ulp – make many of them – ulp – all the way downstairs. ULP"

Oh gawd…when will this ghoulish nightmare end??

Finally, she's done. It never ceases to amaze me how a cat can give birth to such a horrible thing, then run like hell away from it…(well, I never said cats are stupid).

Now comes the really fun part. This is the part that, I swear, will eventually start a puking daisy chain. I have to pick it up and clean away any and all traces of it's existance. This, you've just GOT to see. I've done it so often, it's evolved into somewhat of an interpretive dance. Paper towels (gobs of them, thank you) at the ready…I grab it. Oh shit, it's wiggling!! I mummify it in the towels. Still moving (did it just scream??). I end up having to put the Smackdown on it as well as a few bitch-slaps thrown in for good measure. As I run like the wind to deposit it into the trash, I'm ever-mindful that the path I'm taking is a varitable puke-pasture minefield and one wrong step will make this morning end badly. (fuzzy daddy so wants to keep his cool…without losing his lunch)

After about 30 minutes, peace has once again folded over the manor. The cat explosion is all cleaned up, the trash taken out and Annie (look at her, she's such an angel) is passed out asleep on one of Daddy's favorite antique chairs that she KNOWS she's not allowed on. Do I let her sleep? No, I decide it's time for payback. So, on my way out the door to go to work, I first grab the squirtgun and give her a good hosing down. Then I stoop down, look her in those creepy yellow owl-eyes, pat her wet head and sachet my happy ass out the door.

I swear I heard her say behind me, "Same time tomorrow, Asshole!!"

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2 Responses to “Just hearing it makes my skin crawl…”

  1. Laura said

    Hey guys! I finally found my way to your site 🙂 I think it’s lovely that you decided to write about all the gross things cats do. Haha.

  2. Kathy said

    God I laughed so hard at this reminds me why I don’t have cats anymore…and also when Steve and I were kids we both pretend not to hear the cat get sick so we wouldn’t have to clean it up…at least Mom had hardwood floors!!!! Verrry Funny stuff dear keep up the good work…

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