Sunday, September 14, 2014

Eating Kitty

Back in the day, I made my living by driving a truck.  I got my CDL over the road for about five years, then quit.  We moved Florida so the ol’ lady could finish up her college.

Thus, it came to pass in these days of low employment that our hero’s found themselves, penniless and jobless.  Verily, verily employment hath been sought from the trucking industry once again, and soon it came to pass that many months were spent from thou abode and the spouse did become lonely.

Anyways, the ol' lady went to the animal shelter and got a brand new kitty because she was all alone and in a new city.

Soon I was to return home, never to leave again as the large corporate trucking industry tried to lay with me from behind.  Having no desire of the sinful corporate ways, I was welcomed home again…still penniless.

The ol’ lady named the new kitty "Tabby." “Because he's a Tabby.” She explained.

When I first saw this kitty with great big paws, I concluded that "Tabby" just didn't cut the cake for such a huge kitty so I renamed him "Muad'dib." Muad'dib was taken from the book "Dune." The character eventually becomes the savior of the Universe, so the name seemed to fit.

To make a long story short – Soon after my return home, I found this was not a great kitty, but a very stupid kitty that was hell-bent on not letting me sleep and it really pissed me off.

It would lick my face while I slept.  Sometimes he would sneak up and start licking inside my nose, sometimes my mouth!  The idea of that damn kitty licking his butt, then walking up to me and licking inside my mouth is enough to make me puke!  When he wasn’t doing that, he would knock stuff off the dresser, go runnin' around the house makin' noise and breakin' stuff.  So finally I threw him in the bathroom and closed the door. I figured if the kitty was contained it would settle down and just go to sleep.

He mostly scratched on the bathroom door, and I just turned on the air conditioner to drown out his scratching and yelping. But before long he had completely scratched up the bottom of the door.  There goes our deposit.  Plus, he would give me a dirty look when I let him out of the bathroom in the morning.

I concluded that this kitty was more trouble than he was worth and decided to do away with it in the most humane way possible.  In the tradition of my ancestors, I would bite his head off and spit it into a fire.  This insures he doesn’t come back as a spook to haunt me.  Lucky for me he was still a tiny little kitty and his head was just the size of a small lemon, so I was sure I could do it!

So I grab the kitty by the back of the neck and shove his head in my mouth. I'm just about to bite down, when Moe decides to bite down himself.

Next thing I know, I got my own blood spilling out of my mouth instead of the kitties.

I yank the kitty out of my mouth and that little shit has a chunk of my tongue, about the size of a quarter, in his mouth.  I figure I better get it from him and take it to the hospital so they can sew it back on.

The kitty runs into the kitchen and hides under the table giving me a "fuck-ya'll-look."

Just as I was about to grab him, I see him swallow my tongue in one swift gulp.

By now the kitchen floor is covered in blood and pee (the injury did hurteth me so much, I lost control of bodily functions, and my pants did dripeth of the pee).

I left a note on the table, telling the ol' lady to clean up the mess and that I went to the hospital. Then I grabbed a dirty T-Shirt, shoved it in my mouth so I don't drip all over the car and head toward the hospital, where they proceeded to stitch and clean my torn tongue.

I came home angry at that Moe-Kitty.  But I also developed a great respect for the little guy, ‘cause he don’t take no shit.

This post is made in loving memory of our kitty of 12 years, Muad’dib.

And now you know!

COMING NEXT: Cajun food!

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