The backstory: For those who don’t know, I have this cat. Her name is Vivian Leigh, She’s old-ish, her legs don’t really work, and sometimes she pees on the rug. But I love her anyway.
Most of the time.
Cats are alright pets. You can leave them alone all day, they don’t go for walks, and they don’t drool. But sometimes, especially at night, they do go totally batshit crazy and start barreling around like unstoppable, furry juggernauts. So I wasn’t totally surprised when Vivian started cavorting around the apartment around 1:30am, running in and out of the room and making a fucking ton of noise. I tried to sleep while this was going on, periodically sitting up to throw socks at her and hissing, “God damnit! Calm the fuck down!!!” before dozing back off until the next giant crash as the cat richocheted off the television, punched holes in the walls, and tore the couch to shreds. (My boyfriend, who sleeps so soundly that I could host a breakdance party on the bed without him waking up, slumbered on in total oblivion.)
After two hours of insanity (during which the cat actually opened the door three times when I tried to shut her out of the room), Viv finally got tired of running back and forth, climbed up onto my stomach, and started purring. I lifted up my head to see if she was going to sleep, and saw to my great relief that she was lying down with her head on her paws. She’d even brought one of my socks up onto the bed with her. Awww, I thought, that’s cute. But, it was lying on my chest, so I went to pick it up and throw it in the hamper.
I touched it.
It was NOT a sock.
I flipped the light on.
There was an enormous dead mouse resting on my sternum.
“Oh my God,” I said. Dave, who up to this point was still fast asleep, picked his head up.
“Wha?” he said.
“Vivian killed a mouse,” I said. “It’s… on me.” Dave got out of bed and looked at me, at the corpse on my chest, and then at me again.
“Oh,” he said, and then, “Well, ok, I have to pee.” And he left.
My boyfriend left me lying in bed with a deceased rodent draped over my decolletage.
I’m grateful for the perspective, really. The whole “you left the toilet seat up” thing suddenly just doesn’t seem like such a big deal.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
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4 comments:
Just for the rec, I would have TOTALLY protected you. First I would have prolly taken a picture---cuz that would have been a funny picture---but then I would have TOTALLY protected you. Like most men, I have no problem coming to the defense of women as long they're young and attractive, and as long as it doesn't involve actually putting myself in any real danger. So after I took the picture and came back from peeing, I would have totally batted that thing off you with a shoe---probably your shoe. I guess that's why women consider me to be as much of a "catch" as they do...
Oh for the love of God. Please stop. Please. Really. Stop.
I followed the back link from today's post. I don't recall reading this one in its day but it made me realize that I have actually come to recognize my cat's "I just caught a mouse" behavior, which differs somewhat from her "I'm just doing the normal destroy the apartment gig," even in my sleep. This has saved me more that once from the shock of waking up with a mouse in my decolletage and from needing bryan c to come over and kick ass on a mouse (as if).
you know, I have to say - I don't remember this post either. And I have to be honest, I have a suspission that this was never actually posted. that's right, kat, I'm calling you out. What, you don't think we know about your ability to manipulate time? shame on you...
also: I would have just caught the mouse myself. so there.
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