2003.11.24 Feline Relations
So, there I was, pinned down by my girlfriend's vicious cat. OK, it's not really all that vicious. There are some pretty severe limits on how vicious something can be when it's lazy, fat, crosseyed so bad that it's nearly blind, and has only one tooth. It can get downright cranky if it's not fed on time, but that's really more "whiney" than "vicious". If you pet it the wrong way (not letting it wipe its nose on you), it will make biting motions with its one remaining fang, but again it doesn't rank really high on the vicious scale. I have heard the cat hiss a couple times, when it was threatened with some cute kittens, but it proceeded to waddle off indignantly instead of doing anything really vicious. Of course, if you're a piece of kibble, it might seem pretty terrifying...
Where was I? Oh yeah, pinned. You have to appreciate that a special relationship exists between a guy and his girlfriend's cat. That relationship is best described as blackmail. Even though I wasn't in any physical danger from the little fuzzy beastie, it carried considerable metaphysical firepower. If the cat seems upset in any way, like, say, from a mild boot to the head, when the girlfriend arrives she'll notice the cat's distress instantly and completely neglect anything else. Never mind how upset the girlfriend would be if the cat were to sustain any physical injury while under the care of the helpless boyfriend. So, upsetting the cat is a bad thing, especially when it's a cat so gibbled that it could injure itself by tumbling off the couch and crashing through the merely wooden floor.
I'm trying to read some of the booty I retrieved from Powell's Bookstore, namely the complete Watchmen series, and fluffzilla is making my arm go numb. I desperately want to save the limb by moving it such that blood flow can resume, but that means shifting the cat. Unfortunately for me, the cat is comfortable - I can tell by the drool. It had already done the plaintive meowing that roughly translated into "sneak me some extra food or I'll pretend to be exceptionally distressed when she gets here", and it was happily napping off its glut.
Normally, I'd say "screw it, it's just a stupid cat", but these furry little bastards have an innate sneakiness. Just the other night, the evil thing heaved its massive bulk up onto my side of the bed. After a seemingly endless stream of "here kitty kitty" trying to lure satan's minion to her side of the bed, my girlfriend plopped down, clearly regarding herself as utterly betrayed. Not just angry at the cat, whom she would forgive shortly, but also considering me to be in the plot. Worse, she would find some way to determine that I had somehow manipulated the innocent cat into an uncharacteristic act of treachery. All I could do was just lie there, while my girlfriend fumed, and the cat purred it's evil little laugh. It clearly demsontrated what kind of influence it could wield.
So what did I do? Well, it just so happens that my laptop was nearby, and I typed up this cry for help one-handed. Unfortunately, I realized that there wasn't anyone to e-mail for assistance, because most of my friends live in other countries. So, I started typing up this web page, because I was getting bored. Besides, I needed some way to distract myself from the cat breath. How does something with just one tooth manage to need to floss so badly? While you're trapped, you start to notice little details. Like the fact that the cat's hind legs disappear under a fold of blubber when it sits on its haunches.
Oh, thankfully, the girlfriend is home now. I'm freed! Hairy Blobula is off to beg for more food, and I am left to deal with the army of pins in my near-dead arm. I try to rise, and feel weighed down. At first I think it's the effects of lethargy, but then I realize that I've acquired considerable mass in the form of cat fur. I find myself wondering if there were some way to harness the incredible clinging power of cat fur and reproduce it on car tires.
Time to go.
