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Sep 4

Has anyone seen my pussy?

Posted on Tuesday, September 4, 2007 in Family, Rantings, Strange and Unusual

Blessed be the good old days when a person could shamelessly post these words in the newsagent’s window.

Something really strange happened a few weeks ago, something you might read in a Stephen King novel, that has led to the dissapearance of my cat.  She’s out there somewhere, disgruntled and lost, because I created a monster.

There comes a time every year when my dog must be brushed.  As the days grow longer and warmer, so does his coat.  Bundles of loose greying fluff appear on his haunches and mane and begin to drop on the carpet, creating a warm and fuzzy though untolerably smelly new rug for us to walk on.  Eventually when I can take it no more, I groom him.  Wouldye is a very large dog, however, and one grooming session can produce up to two full plastic bag’s worth of fluff.

Having filled such a bag recently, I carelessly left it hanging around on the top of my composter in the garden of an evening, only to find the next morning that it had dissappeared.  This very same day, to my horror, I saw that it had grown four legs, two pointy ears and two very large bright green eyes.  It was sitting on my windowsill and staring at me intently.  Frankenstein’s kitten was born.

This kitten was ‘aquired’ somehow by my neighbour, though conveniently, she won’t say how. By some stroke of imaginative genius this new animal was named ‘Fluffy’.  It has haunted my house ever since.  It hangs around my budgie cage, terrorizing them at every available opportunity.  Unfortunately there is no such thing as budgie prozac, so the window beside the cage needs to remain shut most of the time to stop Fluffy breaking and entering.  This means our house is hot and airless.  Now and then, this abomination can be found upstairs, roaming, marking and inspecting it’s new territory.   I’ve kicked out this kitten about 50 times since it arrived.  (Is it because I is black?!)

Now ordinarily, I would be proud of such a creation.  Being a girl, I would ordinarily gush over such a tiny cute little black bundle of kitten fluff, but unfortunately its arrival seems to have put my own cat’s nose severely out of joint, for my Smudge is A.W.O.L.  I pass her food bowl every morning, its contents growing staler by the hour, but I will not remove it. 

Smudge is one of those cats who is extremely independant.  She will not show you much affection at all unless she’s looking for something, much like a grown child treats their parents.  She has mastered the art of the ultimate distainful glare, and speaks volumes with one simple flick of her tail.

My relationship with Smudge is a sad one.  When she was of the kitten-bearing age herself, she began to behave very oddly.  She would stick her arse in the air and make a very creepy sounding ‘Rrraarrwl’ sound whenever a tom was around.  When I described this behaviour to my vet, he strongly advised me to bring her to surgery sharpish for the operation to end all operations.  I called the surgery the next day to enquire after her, only to have a horrible conversation with the receptionist.

“You do know she was pregnant, don’t you?”  She said in icy cold tones.  “We aborted six kittens.  She has recovered well though.”

This broke my heart.  I would never have gone ahead with this if I’d known.  Sure enough, when poor Smudge returned, our relationship was bitter, like she knew what I’d done.  I felt awful for her, and would do anything for her to get her kittens back.  Being that such a thing couldn’t be arranged, we settled back into normal life, Smudge the barren spinster, I the cruel kitten aborter.  Life went on.

Until now.  The fluffy abomination was the last straw, a final slap in the whiskers for Smudge.  Her house is no longer her territory, Fluffy the Nermal to Smudge’s Garfield.  So, it appears that she has left.

I am so worried about my cat, I’m frought.  I remember my old cat Misty, who left at a ripe old age to die on her own, but then re-considered and came home for one last goodbye.  Misty was a genius cat, the sort who knew that walking up and down the piano keyboard was enough to wake someone upstairs in order to be let out for a pee.  When the piano lid was closed, he then figured out how to unlatch the window himself every night.  He is the cat with whom all other cats are compared, and the reason that I’m not entirely just a doggy person.

I hope Smudge is just on one of her ‘littlest hobo’ adventures… that she has met with a puppy and a duck and they are off saving a farm somewhere.  Realistically though, I know this is unlikely, and that she’s probably off contimplating suicide somewhere, or at best, has found herself some new kitten-free owners.

Either way, I feel there is only one ending to this travesty.

Fluffy must die.

Bring on the comments

  1. Grannymar says:

    Take Fluffy for a long drive and butter her paws before you release her.

  2. Hails says:

    You and I could join together to write some sort of humour-slash-angst novel on the life of a cat owner.

    This greatly entertained me, to the extent where I’m concerned that I’ve become one of those crazy old spinster Cat Ladies who only listens to people when they’re talking about cats. And I’m only 25. :(

    Hope Smudge puts in an appearance soon. Regards to the Boo Radley-esque budgie(s).

  3. Daz says:

    In my digs last year, I learned that cats vanish for only two reasons: to have kittens, and to die.

    On that happy note, bonne chance with finding your cat.

  4. K8 says:

    Thanks very much, ‘mate’!

  5. Medbh says:

    “I Can Has Abortion?”
    How terrible, K8.
    Maybe she’s taken over a neighbor’s house?
    Hope she makes it home.

  6. Baino says:

    Awww K8 that’s sad. I fear the youngling is right. I don’t think she’s coming back. I had a ‘male’ cat who behaved in very much the same way and remember being on the phone to the vet who was trying to get me to identify whether he had a ‘dot’ or a ‘slit’ under its tail. Buggered if I could see. Needless to say Basil was actually Syble and was promptly desexed. No kittens involved thankfully. We had got used to her name by then so she remained Basil Fawlty all her life (had a gammy eye)

  7. That’s kind of heavy.
    Shouldn’t they have consulted you first?
    Was the icy receptionist implying that you had ordered the abortion?

    I hope Smudge returns. And brings you a t-shirt.

  8. Alice says:

    I hope Smudge comes back too. I agree with gimmeaminute, that vet should have contacted you first!

  9. Robert says:

    Maybe your father has something to do with your cat being missing? he is after posting a very adventurous recipe on his site.

  10. Brianf says:

    I fear you may correct about Smudge remembering. In the world of horses there are Vets who specialize in gelding. A horse’s regular Doctor can not perform this operation because the horse remembers who did this to him.
    Personally I can relate to this. If someone gelded me, their face would be seared into my memory.

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