Bad day? Perhaps a short tail to cheer you up a bit . .

[Notmyrealname]

(Some of our fellows are having rough days today, so I thought I would share a short story of my own, to maybe pick people up a little going into the week. Honestly, the subject matter has caused me a quite a bit of stress, but I'm trying to keep a sense of humor. Plus, I felt like writing something, and when that lady comes a-knocking, you best open the door.)

Disclaimer: This may or may not be based on real-life events. But, if I ever write fiction about something this mundane, and then compound my error by sharing it with the public, I should be promptly drowned in the nearest creek.





So, I have this big 'ol tabby cat, she is the sweetest thing you ever did see, just a beautiful, lovey-dovey, poody-tat of an animal. But recently, she's been finding anything made of textiles that has floor under it--so this would include clothes on the floor, and more recently, shag carpeting--to be a much more inviting place to go pee than the perhaps more traditional option, her litter box.

This, as you might imagine, has been a real problem for those of us who are cohabitating within her place of residence. You see, we are not fans of the aroma, the scent--it is not up there with the homey smells of fresh-baked bread or a nice potpourri--and, further, there's something a little bit unsavory about the idea of someone or something peeing on the carpet in a common area. It just . . yeah . . something about that just . . doesn't feel right.

(Now I admit, I may have <ahem> peed on a carpet, or maybe more than one, in my younger days, in what is probably best described as "a drunken stupor", but I hardly see how that's relevant here, do you? I mean, it's not like I'm sitting up here, in my um . . glass house . . hurling stones . . ? What's that? You say that's exactly what is going on here? Okay, forget I asked, back to my story then.)

Alarmed, I contacted a veterinari--actually, no, I googled the symptoms; who needs a doctor when you have internet service?--and I read that my cutey-wootey wittle kittykins might be suffering from UTI, which I think is a new television network on the cable TV. Well, I'm no cable installer, so I called the local pet hospital and set up an appointment for the little snugglepuss to get checked out. In the meantime, I had to put the cat in a place where there is no carpet or cloth, which left me no option . . dun DUN . . other than to sentence her for the two days before her vet appointment . . DUN DUN DUN! . . TO THE DUNGEONS! (otherwise known as the laundry room . . sorry, bit of an anticlimax there)

As today was the big day, Little Ms. Meow-Meow got to go on an adventure (it's part of our newly-implemented furlough program here at Laundry Room Dungeons), a journey by automobile to the Cat Hospital, and she was, surprisingly, quite the proper, well-mannered little ladycat. She did not even try to eat the dog in the lobby! And she got to stay and mingle with the staff there for a very long time (I will spare you the details of medical necessity, but let's say she had to stick around awhile for drinks, you can figure the rest of that sequence of events on your own). BUT! --

(capital letters! how exciting! sorry, more anticlimax coming)

It turns out her difficulties may stem from being a bit . . how shall I say this? . . she is pleasantly plump, and maybe sort of ummm . . big boned. Okay, it looks like she ate two other cats, and that was only the appetizer course. She's a big, fat cat. If she were in The Princess Bride, she would have been a FOUG -- a Feline Of Unusual Girth. When she sits around the house, she reall--

Well, I guess you get my point. No need to pile on further.

So, to conclude this cattail, er, cat tail . . er, I mean, cat tale, my affectionate, warmhearted, shedding-like-global-warming-will-soon-make-fur-an-evolutionary-handicap kittycat, has been sentenced to a fate she will perhaps consider even worse than death (or even death by chocolate--which, if you think about it, is probably still pretty damn horrible):

She has to go on a diet. A crash diet. That means no more thirds, no more second breakfasts, no more post-dessert meal encores, and no more fifth Fancy Feast reprises. In other words, no more eating like a hobbit on holiday.

And that, my friends, is a Very Sad Tale about my cat. I believe I will miss her. More specifically, I will miss the forty percent of her that will not be there anymore after the next couple of months. But, it's good for her health. Sometimes you have to go through some pretty awful stuff in order to get yourself to a good place. OR at least that's what I keep telling my cat. Through the door . . So she doesn't try to kill me, in order to eat me.

THE END

P.S. I am certain that by tomorrow my head will appear to her as a big steak, like in the Tom and Jerry cartoons of my youth. If this is my last post, then farewell!

[Keva]

LOL You are a great writer! That was quite amusing Here's hoping she doesn't attack you tomorrow

[sissy07]

I have been bummed out today, and now I am laughing! Thank you so much - you are really a great writer!

Actually I took my two dogs for their annual check up and both of them need to lose 25% of their weight! I knew they were getting fat but wow. The vet said to give them green beans or carrots for snacks instead of the usual pupperoni, hot dogs, etc. I will be trying that tomorrow....I am sure they are going to look at me like WTF? I have been a vegetarian for 35 years - I guess I should have been more careful. Yeah, we are a well fed group here in Texas!

[CraigA]

You should really make your cat more nuts and start eating her cat food (what a way to get back at her) hahahaha!!! Great story i love it!!!

[LoveIsTheAnswer]

lol glad i read this, made me smile :-D thank you for your post

[hypochondriac]

That made me smile so much x