The Truth About Cats and Bags

Back in the days of chivalry, princesses, knights in shinning armor and extreme poverty and pestilence among the masses, it was a general practice among unsavory business men to pull a fast one on their paying customers. In the backrooms or behind the curtain, once the piglets or chicks were selected, the salesman would bag something other than the livestock so that the young animal would be easier to transport. Cats are highly fertile and readily available to dispose of in such a manner. The merchant kept the livestock and the money hoping that by the time his deceit was discovered, the buyer was too far gone to matter. If the rouse was caught in time, the peddler was exposed and the cat would be let out of the bag for all to see. A crook, a cheat and someone never to do business with again.

What does this have to do with the price of rice in China? Absolutely nothing.

Yeah, I have a cat. An ugly cat. The world’s ugliest cat. He’s stuffed in a bag in the back of my closet merely to keep mankind from the horror of such a hideous feline. If it wasn’t for a certain person who will remain nameless and at the top of my poop-list because of said offense, this cat would have never been an issue. There is no reason for deceit; only the shame of owning such a pitiful creature.

I throw it some Meow Mix every once and a while and if its been especially good or I’m feeling not so foolish, a can of Fancy Feast’s tender lamb with veggies. Sometimes I ask myself why I bother to keep the poor thing alive, that the humane thing to do would be to put it down and let it rest in peace. Only I would grieve the loss and the world will keep wobbling on its axis unaware of its passing and much happier for it.

Having been told that I could never raise that particular breed of cat, in their educated opinion I would be better off never adopting one or anything remotely pet-like as a child because I would inadvertently kill it with my ignorance. I am defying those who "knew better" by its existence in the first place and somehow that is satisfying enough.

It is not common knowledge that I failed year four of Cat Care For Dummies or that I was enrolled with fellow, medically declared, simple-minded, pet-deprived children and subsequently finished the required program with only the very basics. Food, water and a gentle pat or two on the head if an adult was present. Steinbeck's Lennie and I have more in common than I would like to confess. I was given specific instructions that if by some chance I came upon a hapless critter, I was to give first-aid if needed (food and water) and transport to someone who actually passed all sixteen years of training with the proper paper and a gold star to prove it.

So you may be asking why an illiterate, mom-aged gal such as myself would even put in the effort of nurturing something so mournful knowing what I know and feeling the tremendous weight of all that I do not. I suppose its nice to have something to care for, that someone - somewhere out there thought it was worth a chance despite its unfortunate exterior and funny smell. It was born in desperation, raised in isolation and allows me to be me, as I am, without condition, fault, or pretenses implied or otherwise. Trust in others is not the issue here. Complete anonymity has its perks and manages the hate mail PETA would feel obligated to send me.

Maybe someday when the fur starts to grow back in - when malnourishment is no long an issue and those "who know" feel I haven't done such a bad job caring for it in my disabled state, I'll let the poor thing out into the open and bask in the late twilight of day.

As for the oddity and less-than-cryptic content of this post, I felt I had to say something in a very non-verbal sort of way. My brain falls out my rear, I panic and plead to die a very quick and painless death; I stew and stress over the cat in the bag and immediately want rid myself of anything incriminating and to bury its putrid carcass under a maple tree at least five states away. Knowing that you know, that you don't know specifically and still want to know, is enough for me to know that nobody should have ever known. You know? To satisfy your curiosity and relieve my angry ulcer, I'd like to introduce you to my cat.

Labels: Random Thoughts