Saturday, September 17, 2016
The Poor Little Kiddy cat ((R-Rated; not for Cat Lovers) (a Minnesota Story)) 1959
I have not done a story on cats for a long time, did one several years ago, and there was nothing loving about it, and to be frank, there is nothing here loving about it, so to be upfront, don’t read this if you’re a lover of cats, because I’m not. So if you are asking: “Why is he telling a story on cats?” Because there are other people in the world that do not love cats—like me! This story is for them. It is kind of like Democrats and Republicans, we don’t always get along but we got to live by each other. But before I tell this story, I need to bring you up to date. When I married my wife Rosa, she had fifteen cats. I never saw them, because she moved from Lima, Peru to St. Paul, Minnesota for six years with me right after our marriage, and they all fled to new owners—thank God—shortly after. And when I moved to Lima, in 2006, they were all gone, another thank God, they didn’t return. Plus in our condo in the mountains, we have no cats, a third thank God. Now, when I met my wife she had breathing problems, asthma, is my best guess, she doesn’t anymore, not sucking in all that flying loose cat hair. I do believe those poor little kiddy cats, we all adore, turn out to be in adulthood, imp devil cats, they can’t help it. Okay, now for the story.
I don’t know what kind of cat this was that is the protagonist of this story, perhaps a Forest Wildcat, or a crossbreed of a polecat and wildcat, and North American cat. It looked a little like what is called a Caucasian Wildcat, it was no pussy cat I’ll tell you that. Now we must go back some years, let say to 1959, I was twelve years old, and a Boy Scout, and my Scout Master took us to St. Croix, Camping Grounds, for the weekend, we built two tents, several of us to a tent. I had fallen to sleep about 9:00 p.m., and it must had been sunrise when I opened my eyes, not because I wanted to wake up but something obscure or something reproachful I felt was happening: but what?
As I said I opened my eyes, I was mummified, a creature from Star Trek was composed, sitting on my chest, looking at me. My brain was swamped on what to do, and what it was, whence it come from, for what purpose had it, landed on me, it was a monster, an alien cat, a non-terrestrial something. It was huge, with a vertebrate body, formed like an elongated monster over my face, I was breathing in its mammalian carbon dioxide. He was so close to my face, he had a shapeless head with the curving needle tipped nose, like a mammoth insect. Not sure if it was a she or he (I think a she, they’re more diabolic, just kidding, but who’s to say?) but whatever gender, it scared the britches right off me. Why me? I asked myself later. But for the moment, here was this vampire monster, I grabbed it under its front forepaws, or forelimbs, its powerful ape like claws, or clawed feet dug into my chest, and tossed it halfway across the tent, airborne like a bat. It landed as if it was only on its second of nine lives, and gave me the evil eye.
Anyhow I shuddered with repulsion. To this day, cats avoid me, I them, they are a paradox to say the least and unconsciously perhaps I’ll like to make them all into stiff jelly.
Note: Written 9-17-2016/#1154