Trashy Cats (3)

A word from Apricot Lady: When I graciously allowed my dear hubby write up our trashy cat stories, I figured we would get some hate mail from our cat loving readers. Never did I guess the hate mail would come from the trashy cats. Things have settled down here a bit as far as the cat invasion goes, so I will timidly present to you the third and final installment. If you don't hear from me in the next 24 hours...please send some authorities to our house...I am scared of what those cats could do to me!

Driving in our town presents a great opportunity for stress outlet, and sometimes it’s the cause of stress. Since I have such displeasure for cats, when cats try to cross the street in front of the car it definitely becomes the former. It’s not like I’m mean to animals, but if a cat comes in front of the car, I’m certainly not going to go out of my way to avoid it, and I may drift one way or another without endangering my passengers of course. In our previous car, I kept tick marks on the stick shift of all the cats I ran over, akin to hunter’s tracking their kills on the barrel of their rifles. To date, I’ve hit 4. Three were somewhat deliberate, one was a complete fluke...

Since the chicken incident, the family has taken to cheering me on whenever they spot cats near the street. My son even thinks driving on the sidewalk should be justifiable. One fine evening we were making our way home from a visit, and I turned the corner down a narrow street near our house. This particular side street has several trash dumpsters on the side, and is a hot spot for cat turf wars.

That night, it became hallowed ground for a very disturbed trashy cat. As I turned the corner, and accelerated down the street, we came up on the first dumpster. Since it was night, the headlights were on, which provided us a distinct view of a flash of white and black fur, and a matching horrified gaze emanating from a pair of glowing evil eyes as they descended right in front of the car. This particular feline had evidently had enough with dumpster living, and threw itself from the tallest dumpster it could find, right in front of our car. It was the only cat suicide I’ve ever witnessed.

I felt bad for a second, almost letting myself grieve the sad passing of a distressed trashy cat. But that was wiped away quickly as cheers erupted from the backseat. The kids thought it was great that I didn’t even have to try, as if the stars had aligned to provide revenge for our missing dinner. It seems hatred for trashy cats may have strong genetic linkage. Passed proudly from my father, I’ve succeeded in instilling this important character trait in my children. Again, I don’t want to sound like some sadistic animal hater, lest PETA and Greenpeace get together and throw red paint on my car in protest. But cats here are kind of like squirrels or skunks in the country. There’s too many of them, and sometimes, natural selection just needs to take place.

I trust you’ve enjoyed the mini-series and that I haven’t damaged the reputation of Apricots Today permanently. As the disclaimer states, the author of Apricots Today does not necessarily endorse or condone the opinions expressed herein, and I’ve gotten somewhat of an earful for my sometimes graphic portrayals and choice of wording. I do thank Apricot Lady though for the opportunity to share, it’s been real.