Here Kitty Kitty
Some people like cats and some people don't. Personally I have nothing against them - it's not like I'm allergic or anything, and I don't run away when they come to see me (although their habit of jumping on your lap and turning around with their tail in the air to show you their pink sphincter is at best unsettling). I wouldn't ever choose to have one though. I'm not sure anyone actually chooses to have a cat - I've never met anyone who went out and bought one. They just seem to show up at the houses of soft-natured people and move in. This is what happened to my colleague Andy - one day four kittens showed up at his house in France and before he could say "no fucking way" his kids had adopted them and his wife started to feed them. Andy doesn't like cats. He wouldn't go out of his way to hurt one but he always wished they'd just fuck off and die.
Well, now he's down to one. The first one just disappeared, maybe inside a passing fox. The second, however, was a more traumatic experience for the family. His wife was always on at him to check under the car before driving off, just in case kitty was asleep under the wheels, and on this particular day he duly did so. However on engaging first gear and driving forward he felt a bump; on stepping out, sure enough, there was a cat behind the back wheel, flat in the middle but still wriggling at both ends. His wife was appalled and wanted it taken to the vet but it was clearly beyond the reach of earthly healing so Andy said he'd dispatch it and put it out of its misery. His wife went indoors so Andy grabbed a plastic bag and put the cat in it. Picture the scene as his wife walked back outside just as he was banging the cat in the bag against the wall. This did not earn him any pet care points.
Fast forward six months, to last week. Of the two remaining cats one had taken to sleeping in the garage, up in the area where the automatic garage door workings were located. (Don't ask me why - Andy had no idea either. Perhaps it was just a very stupid cat.) His instructions were to check before opening the garage door, although it's not clear to me how you would check with the door closed. On this particular Monday Andy was in a rush and he jumped in his car and headed for the office. En route he received a distressed call from home where tearful children were contemplating the small puddle of blood collecting under the cat trapped in the door mechanism, no longer in any fit state to wave its arse in anyone's face.
Andy is now, ironically, in the dog house. He conducted a mock-funeral for the cat and buried it, although this touching gesture was somewhat spoiled by the fourth (and final) cat proceeding to try and dig up its erstwhile sibling. You'd think it would be keeping a low profile instead - with Andy's track record its days are clearly numbered.
Andy shared his cat story with our team tonight; perhaps confession is good for the soul. Tomorrow I have a presentation to make to the group, announcing an organizational change. I'm starting with a new slide - on it is a picture of a dead feline by the side of a road. The caption: "The Cat Is Out Of The Bag". The Wednesday bad taste award is mine for sure...
Copyright © 2008 Edward Bison
Well, now he's down to one. The first one just disappeared, maybe inside a passing fox. The second, however, was a more traumatic experience for the family. His wife was always on at him to check under the car before driving off, just in case kitty was asleep under the wheels, and on this particular day he duly did so. However on engaging first gear and driving forward he felt a bump; on stepping out, sure enough, there was a cat behind the back wheel, flat in the middle but still wriggling at both ends. His wife was appalled and wanted it taken to the vet but it was clearly beyond the reach of earthly healing so Andy said he'd dispatch it and put it out of its misery. His wife went indoors so Andy grabbed a plastic bag and put the cat in it. Picture the scene as his wife walked back outside just as he was banging the cat in the bag against the wall. This did not earn him any pet care points.
Fast forward six months, to last week. Of the two remaining cats one had taken to sleeping in the garage, up in the area where the automatic garage door workings were located. (Don't ask me why - Andy had no idea either. Perhaps it was just a very stupid cat.) His instructions were to check before opening the garage door, although it's not clear to me how you would check with the door closed. On this particular Monday Andy was in a rush and he jumped in his car and headed for the office. En route he received a distressed call from home where tearful children were contemplating the small puddle of blood collecting under the cat trapped in the door mechanism, no longer in any fit state to wave its arse in anyone's face.
Andy is now, ironically, in the dog house. He conducted a mock-funeral for the cat and buried it, although this touching gesture was somewhat spoiled by the fourth (and final) cat proceeding to try and dig up its erstwhile sibling. You'd think it would be keeping a low profile instead - with Andy's track record its days are clearly numbered.
Andy shared his cat story with our team tonight; perhaps confession is good for the soul. Tomorrow I have a presentation to make to the group, announcing an organizational change. I'm starting with a new slide - on it is a picture of a dead feline by the side of a road. The caption: "The Cat Is Out Of The Bag". The Wednesday bad taste award is mine for sure...
Copyright © 2008 Edward Bison
posted by Mr Bison at
2:00 PM
1 Comments:
I'll be in France in two weeks and would be glad to eliminate the fourth and final cat.
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