June 6, 2009; Cats

The fucker on the roof next to my balcony

Mook A's niece lost her cat this week. Rather, it was "put to sleep." Rather, the cat was murdered as we are all murdered if we're not hit by a car; as even the sainted Cosmo was murdered. Given the choice between an operation that would save our miserable little lives—a couple of thou, don't you know?—the Mooks, as a species, will almost always opt for the trip to Disney or the plasma TV.

Anyway, that's neither here nor there. What I wanted to discuss was cats. (Even the word makes me barf a little in my mouth.) Fuck they have it easy compared to dogs. You see, no one expects a cat to do a motherfucking thing.

First, they can shit and piss indoors; I'm expected to freeze my spotted little prick off outside if I need to go. Moreover, I get punished if I have a fucking accident—cats can stink up the whole house and the owners don't seem to notice the spray stains halfway up the wall.

Second, I'm expected to do tricks, whore myself for a measly fucking cookie—dance, sing, sit pretty like some faggoty, pinheaded circus animal...everything short of sucking cocks and bending over to take it like a man. Cats? Nada. You can say, "Sit!" and they'll yawn, fart and walk away. "Lie down!" and they show you that tight little asshole as they walk away.

Third, I chew on a piece of cardboard littering the floor and the Mooks lose it. Cats? They sharpen their claws on the Chippendale secretaire and—well!—that's just what they do, ain't it?

Fourth, I eat whatever cheapo slop they stick in my tin bowl and if I don't like it, tough tits! Cats? Even the fucking commercials tells you what twats they all are about food. Finicky, we're told they are, like that's some kind of cute trait. Jesus H. Christ! If your own fucking kids were as "finicky" as cats, you'd beat them like gongs!

And they're fucking everywhere! I get walked on a leash, they're wandering about tormenting me like the squirrels do, except the squirrels run from me and cats hiss and spit and arch their backs. What kind of demented behaviour is that!!!??? If any other animal did that you'd blow its brains out for possibly being rabid!

And don't forget the platoon of semi-insane cat ladies who protect these fiends. Even on my own street there are these biddies who actually put out fucking bowls of food for the alley cats! A dog roaming around free is gathered up and hustled off to "sleep." But cats? They eat the birds, strut about, and when they're good and fucking horny shriek through the night like a baby in a scalding bath!

So, yes, I grieve for the niece's late cat. But let's face it: it's only in those final moments at the vet's that cats and dogs become equal.