The "poor cat/dog/rabbit/ferret, he/she's so...." item.

Jul 27 03:26 UTC 2000

I admit it.  I do horrible things to the family cats.

Cats are predators, and ought to be free.  But my
family keeps ours cooped up indoors.  This keeps them
from living anything like a natural life, with a
natural lifespan, natural stresses, natural maladies...

I twist and warp their predatory instincts.  I drag
fake, inedible "prey" past them and allow them to chase
it, in a cruel mockery of what they should be.  Sometimes
I even use a hand-held laser and deprive them even of
the materiality of an object to chase.  I often do
this for half an hour or more.

Then there's the physical aspect.  Some cats hide when I
approach, so they escape this part.  But the ones who are
too slow, or have absorbed enough of the "is that REALLY
wet paint?" mentality from humans... they get the full
treatment.  Chin rubs.  Ear rubs.  Most cats have good
coordination under normal circumstances, but too many of
them suffer a loss of directional sense under a concerted
attack of ear-rubs.  Trying to get away, they go in circles
and keep bumping into chair legs, table legs, walls, ankles,
and anything else in the vicinity.  

Let me not forget the back-scritches.  Most cats will stick
their backs up in the air to try to get them out of reach,
but this only puts them closer to the source.  Some cats have
tried to protect their backs by rolling over onto them, making
them inaccessible.  This just makes them vulnerable to belly-rubs.

Some cats eventually make good their escape, but others get
scritched into a comatose state from which they may take an
hour or more to recover.

What kind of stuff do you do to YOUR pets?

response 2 of 77:

Jul 27 05:31 UTC 2000

   I am amazed at how cats fall for the laser dots, every time,
over and over and over again.  I have never seen photonic drugs
before, but I now know they're real.

response 4 of 77:

Jul 27 10:59 UTC 2000

re: #2  i always cautioned people who bought laser pointers that they could
induce a heart attack in their cats if they didn't stop teasing them with it,
because the cats would not quit.   btw, it works on tropical fish as well.
oh, and watching four year olds try to stomp on a dot on the floor is a hoot.
you pause when their foot covers it, then turn it on again when they lift
their shoe to see if they squashed it.  then they try to stomp it again.
(do this only a few times, anything more would be abusive)

response 6 of 77:

Jul 27 12:42 UTC 2000

Our cats are our babies.  They always climb all over us for attention, and they
LOVE their feather wands.  Gomez will drag it over to me and point at it until
I pick it up.  Morticia accepts belly rubs, Gomez will accept them only from me
(sometimes Anney if he's really slutty that day), and Sasha...well...Sasha
takes her loving from Anney.  Once in a while, I am deemed cool enough to pet
the Queen Sasha.  

They all have their own body language, verbal language, and "look".  I can read
Gomez as if he was my own kid, and I'm always right about what he's going to do
and what he wants.  It's neat.  Morticia is still growing up, so she's
kinda...weird.  They also love to play hockey in the bathtub.  Gomez and
Morticia will hop in there with a ball, and they'll bat it around 'til someone
gets it in the drain.  Morticia usually wins.

response 8 of 77:

Jul 27 13:49 UTC 2000

        Bees gets extra style points for the Soul Coughing pseudo.

response 10 of 77:

Jul 27 15:10 UTC 2000

re: #8... was wondering when someone was gonna notice that :)

Harlis has discovered the shower. I have a stand-in shower with a door. 
He sits and waits for me to get out. When I do, he walks in and laps up 
the water. Strange, especially since if one drop drips on him, he's out 
like a rocket.

I held my aunt's week-old kittens yesterday. Two have eyes open. It's 
so cute, they try to hiss and be fierce and the hiss either has no 
sound, or it's a little squeak. :)

response 12 of 77:

Jul 27 16:05 UTC 2000

Gomez waits 'til I'm out of the shower then climbs all over me to make sure I'm
alive and not hurt.  He always looks so *worried*.  It's adorable and sad all
at once.

response 14 of 77:

Jul 27 16:11 UTC 2000

 Diary of a cat . . .
 
  DAY 752 - My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling 
objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry 
cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and  
the mild satisfaction I get from ruining the occasional piece of 
furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant.
  
  DAY 761 - Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their
feet while they were walking almost succeeded, must try this at the top 
of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile 
oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite 
chair...must try this on their bed.
  
  DAY 762 - Slept all day so that I could annoy my captors with sleep 
depriving, incessant, pleas for food at ungodly hours of the night.
 
  DAY 765 - Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in 
attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike 
fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a 
good little cat I was...Hmmm. Not working according to plan......
  
  DAY 768 - I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good 
reason I was chosen for the water torture. This time however it included 
a burning foamy chemical called "shampoo." What sick minds could invent 
such a liquid. My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck 
between my teeth.
  
  DAY 771 - There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was 
placed in solitary throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise 
and smell the foul odor of the glass tubes they call "beer." More 
importantly I overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of 
"allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.
  
  DAY 774 - I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe 
snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to 
return. He is obviously a half-wit. The Bird on the other hand has got 
to be an informant.  He has mastered their frightful tongue (something 
akin to mole speak) and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he 
reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room 
his safety is assured. But I can wait, it is only a matter of time. 
> 

response 16 of 77:

Jul 27 16:33 UTC 2000

Has anyone read Kafka's "Investigations of a Dog"? #14 reminded me of it,
except that slynne's cat is more aware of its surroundings than was
Kafka's dog. 

response 18 of 77:

Jul 27 16:37 UTC 2000

 
  I'm getting a lawyer. *huff*

response 20 of 77:

Jul 27 16:44 UTC 2000

Oh I didnt write #14. It was one of those emails that get sent all over 
the web. Although, I think my cat *does* think like that ;) 

I have never read "investigations of a dog" I will have to get that. 

response 22 of 77:

Jul 27 20:22 UTC 2000

My cat has taken to spitting up his hairballs under the bed. Mmm.

response 24 of 77:

Jul 28 00:08 UTC 2000

i'm allergic to cats, cat-dander. or what-ever. if i touch a cat with my 
hands, my eyes puff up itchy red raw and my sinuses flood. if i spend an 
hour in a cat's home, same result. years ago the theory blamed the 
allergic reaction on something cats like to play with when frolicking 
outside. but all cats have the ability to induce this suffering in me.

of course -- and i suspect as a result, goddamn conniving over-decorated 
rodents -- most cats take an immediate shine to my presence, crawling 
over to stick their ass in my face, or to sit on my lap. usually i'll 
grab a pillow and batter the creature off. to deal with cats of a more 
tenacious air i'll try to sell the cat off, easing the pillow under it. 
can't use my hands. i've learned that abruptly standing to remove my 
cozy lap from their practical and immediate existence results in a 
panicked cat digging in to hang on.

fucking cats.

the first time i had to put up with the feline mote on a daily basis in 
my very own living quarters was when i lived in my dad's basement for a 
summer; his wife is a cat person, and my two young sisters dig cats, so 
there were two kittens (willy, a quiet white-and-brown with a soft-step 
and an admirable prescience; cubby, a black brawler with reckless 
abandon) and one old fat tabby (i don't remember its name or sex -- i'll 
refer to it as 'stoopid'). for the first week of residence, i didn't 
breathe. this enabled me to keep my head immersed in a bucket of water, 
saving me from the allergenic discomforts. for two weeks after that, i 
carried an electric cattle prod.

at the five-week mark, the allergic reaction to 'Cat' had diminished 
almost completely. i still hated those damn cats.

but willy was irresistibly cute.
so i broke down the communication barriers, and we started snuggling. he 
was all for it, opting to curl up in my bed while i slept at night, 
sometimes on my belly, sometimes at my feet.
the allergies were no longer an issue.

willy, in his diplomatic way (full name: william wallace), got cubby and 
'stoopid' to hang out with me in the basement more often. most of my 
nights were spent alone -- i didn't know many folks in dearborn, i'd be 
tired from my high-octane restaurant job, and i had a lot of movies and 
books on queue for ingestion -- so the cats joined me for the nocturnal 
study-sessions-toward-internal-excellence.

willy was the intellectual of the crew, and cubby the brash buccaneer. 
when willy wasn't interested in playfighting, cubby would play with some 
toys or some string, or would beat up on 'stoopid' (who had no 
discernible personality to show for, besides what the pseudonym 
'stoopid' conveys).

then 'stoopid' learned how to climb into the ceiling of the basement. 
'stoopid' didn't know how to get down.

the first night i learned about her/his new trick was when s/he broke me 
out of exhaustedly dream-ridden sleep with his/her exasperated mewing, 
"help me! help me! help me you jerk, i'm too stupid to get myself out of 
the ceiling!" *i* had no idea what to do because the ceiling panels were 
not removable. i tried to entice 'stoopid' over to an open portion of 
the ceiling -- but even there, when the cat was on the precipice, 
staring down, mewing petulantly, no success. i'd coax her/him, to no 
avail. i'd try to grab the pussy, but the pussy reacted violently. 
reminded me of high school.

s/he'd figure it out eventually.
then s/he'd get stuck again, the next night.
this went on for days.

i even wrote a song about it, to drive the inso-maniacal felinity from 
out my tender melon. an ambitious e-riff, dramatic chorus chord-changes, 
filled up with atmospheric guitar solo w/ reverb, like you've been out 
on the prairie for too long.

                LOVE AND A GOOD DEAL
                 lyrics: me
                 music: will & paul myers

               window's open wide now and the banjo's gettin' wet,
                 and the cat's stuck in the ceiling, again.

               mewing keeps me up, while my darlin' gets me down,
                 and the cat's stuck in the ceiling, again.

               sabakawa pillow's down to $19.95
                 and the cat's stuck in the ceiling--
                     the cat's stuck in the ceiling--
                     the cat's stuck in the ceiling, again

                 only kitty can get her down . . .
                 and he's stuck out in the storm,
                     fighting bobcats
                      fighting romance
                     fighting tragic
                      fighting traffic
                     fighting fighting
                      fighting fighting fighting fighting . . .

this was back when i didn't have to shave very often to keep up 
profitable appearances. as a waiter, for example. one night, however, 
after depriving myself of sleep for a couple days, i shaved my entire 
body from the neck down with a single disposable bic razor. it started 
out with my armpits, which were shorn for curiosity's sake -- i was 
dwelling in a basement with cats, remember. then i decided to shave my 
legs, and that was the point of no return. as i neared my crotch, i, 
with my lack of experience in these matters, didn't know where to stop, 
or how to go about doing so. my bikini line stood like maginot as the 
razor marched past, into my primeval pubic forest. this is a canned 
story, and some of you'll recognize it, but i throw it in there only to 
enrich the timeline.

the cats.
willy eventually learned how to climb up into the ceiling, which he 
would do to find 'stoopid' and drag him/her out. for which i was 
grateful, although it wasn't really keeping me up anymore, and i got a 
song out of it ('only kitty can get her down' must be a reference to 
willy . . . and it must mean that 'stoopid' was a female).

then willy ran away.

poof, disappeared, not even a "thank you, ma'am". i looked around the 
neighborhood. i drove to several dearborn humane society locations. no 
luck. no dice. no willy. one of the neighbor kids, no older than 8, made 
a joke about arabs eating my cat.

fuck it. so i made friends with cubby, or cubby made friends with me. to 
compensate for our loss. like mutual friends fucking after a funeral.

a week later, cubby disappeared. same story.

i was left with 'stoopid'.

so i moved out.
it was time, anyway.

'stoopid' has since bit the bullet, ending her miserable fatass life in 
her sleep one night. really freaked out bailey (my dad's rottweiler, 
dumb and strong but cute as a child with down-syndrome dressed in a 
sailor-suit) cuz bailey would sleep curled up next to her. the kittens 
never returned from . . . wherever. these days, my dad's house is feline 
free.

and my allergic tolerance to 'cat' returned to zero within two months 
following my exit from that scene.

fucking cats.
since those days, i've had limited exposure to the little race of 
fuzzball demons. i had an lsd-enhanced one-night-stand with a cat named 
joey. an overpampered longhair named lakshmi likes me because she/he 
knows i won't bother him/her by touching her when she doesn't want to be 
touched. her/his brother bast likes to sneak up on me and dig claws into 
me. he'll sex me up, get all cuddly, get all snoogly, and will wait 
until i relax to pull his prank.

all cats should be declawed.
all cats should be sheared annually, the fur burned for alternative 
fuel.
cats should be used for research. medical, biological, atomic, and 
ESPECIALLY cosmetic.
cats should be fed to alligators in florida.
cats should be the exception to laws protecting animal abuse in 
filmmaking. just like in milo & otis. how many milo's were killed to 
make that 'cat falling off cliff into water while fleeing from seagulls' 
scene? seven? eight?

i love cats.