The writer’s not-quite-bright cat

by
Other Brother Coon Cat (OBCC) is about to find my last nerve and stomp on it.
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I was sleeping soundly when, around 11:45, I heard a BAM, a rustling of bushes, and a pitiful meow.  
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Unfortunately, it takes me a while to come out of a deep sleep.
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Remember my $366 cat?

YES. THIS ONE!

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OBCC had burrowed between the curtains and the window that has to remain open so that I don’t die in my sleep from toxic cat poop fumes.  
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He must have been laying on the sill when his massive weight caused an overburdened screen to give way.  Not knowing how long he’d been languishing outside, I grabbed a flashlight and trudged into the wilderness to find him.
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This isn’t city life.  I don’t have a manicured lawn.  In fact, most of the terrain around my house looks like this:
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I wandered (carefully, to avoid dog poop)– in my PJ’s — to the back of the house.
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I called.  No OBCC, so I reattached the screen after bending it back in shape while holding a flashlight between my knees. 
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The light, and my cursing, didn’t attract him to my position, so I wandered to the other side of the house and back to the front steps, calling his name.
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The Tiny Terror came rushing over the fence and into the house — so, of course, I opened a can of cat food on the kitty perch in the kitchen so he wouldn’t feel all thrown away.
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Another foray into parasite hell, and back to the window…again…calling OBCC’s name.  Out from the bushes comes a rather dazed cat, no doubt lost in his own yard. 
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I carried all 20 pounds of him into the house, and where does he go first? 
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The window!
You think he would’ve learned a lesson but…no.  
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He’s presently curled up on the chair next to the closed window.
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My not-quite-bright cat is fast asleep, 2 dogs are snoring on my bed, the Tiny Terror has taken over my pillow…and what do I get?  Large doses of adrenaline, anxiety, and a fair bit of anger.
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In other words:  I have no hope of getting to sleep before 3 in the morning, so I’m writing this D@%*$d  post for my blog.
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I think I hear ice cream calling my name — or perhaps it’s the hallucinogenic effect of toxic cat poop fumes.
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And you were worried about cow farts.
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©Joelle LeGendre

 

 

 

 

Category : cats, humor
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