The Prisoner of Twisselburg

I don’t generally share upsetting news with my online friends because that’s not why I started this blog.  I started it because my now-defunct publisher told me it was the way to sell books.  The theory being, if you could get people to like you then they’d buy your books.

You don’t have to say it.  I will.  What a load of crap. 

But by the time I made that stunning revelation I was hooked.  Today I literally blog more than I write and from what I’ve read buzzing about the hive, I’m not the only one.

However certain things I just don’t like to write about such as Joel’s disease (chronic couch potatoitis) or the acute pain in my gluteus maximus (the result of my bizarre sleeping habits).  Don’t get me wrong. I think bloggers who write candidly about issues such as depression and chronic pain do a great service and should be applauded for the bravery and candor.  I’m just not one of them.  Uptight? You betcha.  It’s those Puritan genes.  You know, skeletons staying in closets, dirty laundry staying in the hamper.

But today I cannot contain my grief.  I’ve eaten all the saltines in the house, stuffed them into my mouth and chewed them into mush and still that’s not enough.  The bottomless void in my heart  has migrated to my stomach and it’s all over now Baby Blue, bring on the Tamborine Man. 

You see, dear friends, my cat hates me. Absolutely despises me.  Wouldn’t give the sweat off his balls (if he had them) to save me from eternal damnation. Of course, I’m not entirely sure he ever liked me but at least he would let me pet him during a full moon cycle at precisely five o’clock in the kitchen as he sniffed my gin and tonic hoping to get lucky.  Now, nothing.  Not even a look in my direction.  It’s tense here, friends, very tense. 

It all started when the back door was inadvertently left ajar and out he walked, tail high in the air like a question mark.  I became aware of his escape when he strutted past the window and looked in at me, a little surprised at his own brilliance, “Holy Shit, I outsmarted you bozos.” 

Once free, no amount of “Here Kitty” would entice him back in. He promptly found the nearest mud puddle and had himself a spa day and then, when the sun set and it started to get cold, finally submitted to Joel’s pleas.

I don’t know what the hell was in that mud but he returned a changed kitty.   Arrogant and bossy.  Demanding to be let out and when told no, a damn pain in the patootie and, as I previously mentioned, my patootie already has a pain.

“You used to have a pet, humans, now you have a caged beast who hates you. And don’t try buttering me up with various cat treats and toys. It wouldn’t work as long as I’m condemned to your lousy lockup!” Woe is me. On a positive note, the calla lilies are blooming.

40 thoughts on “The Prisoner of Twisselburg

  1. I have never exactly been a cat lover. Two very large dogs were more than enough, but I am wise enough, I think, to know that pets are clever enough to manipulate us arrogant humans.

  2. My feral Cretan alley cats say, ‘Let him out, what harm can he do. As he isn’t used to catching his own food he’ll soon return for the easy life.’ What do you mean? Of course they can talk. How else do they let me know that a crunchy cat treat meant for soppy house cats will be appreciated? x

  3. Oh, it’s only cat trouble. Phew. And here was me worried it was something serious 😉
    Cats are like teenagers. Eternally ungrateful no matter what you do for them. They live in your house for free, eat your food, and never listen to you, or do anything you ask them to.

  4. Jan, this is devastating news! My wife and I know your pain. A few years back (when our girls were much younger and sworn to relieving hapless friends of their many kittens) we inherited a sweet kitten who loved and adored us—probably because it was little and cute and we played with and fed it food while letting it sleep in our sunny window—which was formally occupied by one of my beloved blooming succulent house plants. That is, until that tragic day when it got bigger and the girls released it out into the wild—better known as our backyard. Suddenly we became…expendable! We had been duped into thinking that we were (dare I say it) a cat owner. FOOLS that we were, we came to believe that we were destined for years of constant furry companionship—particularly since we paid to have it fixed. Ha! As it turns out, nothing could have been further from the truth. Naturally, our girls were devastated (once their adopted cat ceased to be a real kitten and otherwise bequeathing its care and keeping to us so that they could hang out more with their teenage friends) and were thus, unable to cope. This might help to explain why they and their friends spent more time doing cheerleading and going to movies, rather than sitting in the backyard waiting to catch a possible glimpse of their once kitten like, cat. My wife and I, on the other hand, consoled ourselves by eating out more and taking longer afternoon walks (to lose the fast food pounds), instead of looking forward the delightful twice daily cleaning out of the kitty litter. So, we know the pain you must be going through—if only for the chance that your cat (and ours) had to go out and catch rodents, instead of curling up on a loving human’s lap. I’m not sure we’ll ever get over our loss (without afternoon ice cream sundae therapy), but we thought you should know, you are not alone—ONLY ABANDONED! :o(

  5. I’m with you about being uptight about sharing all that happens in my life on my blog. I tell what needs to be told, and the rest is none of your business. Rather like a cat, now that I think about it. But not one as cold-hearted and indifferent as your cat, who has shunned you like a used catnip mousie. I am sorry this has happened to you, and hope that you’ll be able to get over the hurt. Cats be ornery things, don’t you know?

  6. Tremendous post, Jan. I think all cat lovers can commiserate. His heart will soften. Tell him his heart has to soften, or you’ll have to soften it with a sweet, innocent kitten 😉

  7. Uh oh ! Have you tried taking your cat out on a lead ? If that doesn’t work, try a lead on the mountain lions, raccoons, skunks and coyotes. Seem like a more friendly bunch 🙄💖

  8. Your humor is so dry, Jan, but distinct and amusing. Although I am sorry to hear about your pains, the cat story is hilarious. I’m not a pet person, prefer the wild birds and mammals, but I know how particular and fussy cats can get. Thanks for bringing a smile to my face, and good luck.

  9. This made me get worried and then relieved, Jan! I just couldn’t understand the transformation! Not having owned a cat, it is so different from the tail wagging and earnest tongue lickings I used to get from my Lab while a Mom of 3 kids, or my various shelties and collies from my childhood spent in my parents’ home. 💞

      • I watch cats for my best friend and her husband. They were wild barn kitties and they smell my breath, knock things off shelves and make me “crack up!” I laugh and talk to them when my friends go out of town I sleep there in the house. The cats dropped a big, red pillar candle onto the floor! It was not burning but it left a bright red candle wax stain! Oooh, man! I knew I was in trouble. . . cream carpets!
        I think cats are funny and clever! I like the books by Lillian Braun Jackson where the Siamese cat (and her sister) solve crimes with a big man named Qwilleran. 🐈

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s