Caturday, MIA Furball.

I got off work Thursday and proceeded directly to my favorite watering hole for a few of my favorite concoctions.
Then I went to the local small town store to peruse their selection of grilling delicacies.
They really do have the best dead cow parts around, some pretty good dead pig parts and they even had some dead rabbit parts! It’s been a LONG time since I had any rabbit.
Anyway, they had this GIANT fucking roast on sale, 4 and a half pounds of primo roast for $9.95.
Sold.
So I toodle on home and fire up the little chrome plated globe looking grill I scored from my old neighbor when he decided to try and stay one step ahead of the local Gendarmes and split in the middle of the night.
Did I mention I live in a trailer park?

Anyways, the new neighbors freaked out when I lit the damn thing off,being a typical male, a little lighter fluid is OK, more is better and too much is just right.

The flames were over my head for a bit but I wasn’t worried, I’m used to it.
So I come into the Rat Hole and scrape a spot to doctor up this roast, after I cut it into thirds, it was fucking huge! and out the door I go.
It was pretty damn warm outside and the cocktails were having the desired effect so I left the door open. I do that occasionally because Baby loves to go in and out and Baby Girl likes to either sit in the doorway, or lay on the step and check shit out. She never goes off anywhere, just hangs out on the step.
So I’m out in back grilling like a fool and sipping a cold one and the next thing I know, some local fucking Yahoo lights off about Fifty bucks worth of fireworks, all at once.
Yeah Yeah, real nice buddy, whatever and back to my roast.
I didn’t pay any attention to the fucking cat.
So I get done with arguably a masterpiece of grilled Pot Roast and decide to be nice, (SHHHH!) and share it with both of my immediate neighbors.
I eat until I can’t stand it and then fall into a coma and go to sleep.
Wake up the next morning and something ain’t right.
It’s too quiet.
Normally when I wake up, at least one of these two Furballs is either sleeping at my feet, right on top of me or bitching to go outside.
Nothing.
No furballs. Shit, the fireworks!
So I get up and start calling cats.
Eventually Baby came running up, she loves to be outside and I know she knows where home is, so I don’t worry about her too much. Baby Girl is MIA.
I look and look and no can find. Shit, here we go again. I can just imagine the phone call to my brother telling him the cat is gone.
Well, shit happens and I have things to do, maybe she’ll come back later.
So off I go. I’m gone most of the day and I come home and still no cat.
Crap.
I have more to do and a party to go to so off I go.
I went to my folks and watched the big fireworks display on television and then went to a party for a while.
That didn’t last very long, every one there had started real early and there were only a few folks still standing.
I didn’t want to drive home with the cops having saturation patrols, even though I had not had much to drink, Fuck that, so I went back to my folks and crashed out, it was only about a mile and a half.

I get up this morning and am farting around when my cousin Buzzy and his most excellent lady pull in. We are all BSing when he reminds me there is a birthday party for one of our childhood friends over in Portland. Sheeeit. Forgot all about it. So off we go to fucking East of Portland at Blue Lake Park, an old favorite for large gatherings. It was real nice to see some old friends I hadn’t seen in years.
After a couple of hours, I said my goodbies and have to go forty freakin’ miles back to the Rat Hole across the river. If there was a bridge there, it would have been 4.

I pull in and get out and head for the door when I swear I hear Baby Girl meowing, real faint. I stop and listen but nothing.
I get the door open and Baby goes flying past me to freedom.
Set my things down and then I hear it again.
Shit! I had the shed open yesterday!
Out I go and tear open the door, nothing.
Where in the fuck is that cat? I can hear it but it is so faint!
As I am standing there, she comes up behind me and starts rubbing against my leg!
Stupid cat, where you been for damn near two days?
I threw her inside expecting her to be starving.
She walks over, sniffs the cat dish and turns around to come get some more lovin’.
I don’t know where it’s been but it ain’t hungry.
So now our little family is back together again, I know she knows where home is now.

Freakin’ cats, anyway, they are giving me gray hairs.

I hope everyone had a nice 4th and stayed safe and out of trouble.
I know I’m getting old, I did.

11 thoughts on “Caturday, MIA Furball.

  1. Happy ending make me cry:>) Good for you Busted glad baby Girl came home … she was probably mooching some goodies from one of your neighbors!

  2. Busted, ‘that’s’ a cat story . . .

    Guess yours are self sufficient w/food, but still need their daddy’s leg . . .

    Glad this ain’t a dog story . . . . ;-)

  3. When I lived out in the woods one of my neighbors had a big ole’ orange unaltered tom cat. Anyhow, this big ole’ tom cat had somehow figured out how to get into my trailer house (did I mention this was during my trailer trash days? Okay, now I did :-). I think he tore a hole through the sawdustboard flooring or something, anyhow, he’d get in there, smell my own cats, and go nuts spraying anything and everything. Ick! Odour de Tomcat is NOT my favorite perfume!

    So anyhow, one day I come in with an empty laundry basket, having just dumped off a load of clothes at my grandmother’s (I did her washing for her), and there’s the damned orange piece of shit right in the middle of my living room. So of course I throw said laundry basket over that big ole’ tomcat lickity split, follow up to hold it down as he fusses and feuds, then came the task of figuring out what to do with him. First thing was to transfer some heavy crap to the top of the basket to keep him from going anywhere. Next thing was to go out to the tool shed and get my heavy leather welding gloves and the cat carrier for my cats (I had two brothers at the time and they got along, so they had one big cat carrier rather than two smaller ones like I have for the current pair). While wearing the leather gloves, I gingerly transferred said big orange cat into the cat carrier, transported the cat carrier out to the pickup truck, and headed off into the sunset. Literally so. Darkness. It was winter. Night.

    So anyhow, I get to a point about ten miles from home, and turn off onto a side road and pull off on the shoulder, open the passenger door, and open the door to the cat carrier. Big ole’ orange tomcat was outta there lickity split. Gone. Adios. And I was done with him. I thought.

    A few days later, the neighbor asked me, “You seen my cat anywhere?” I shrugged. “Not for a few days,” I said.

    A couple days after that, that big orange pissing furball showed up again, good as ever. Didn’t look like he’d even lost any weight. Though he didn’t spend time pissing in my trailer, nosirree. Apparently his little vacation had cured him of the desire to come anywhere near me and my cats.

    So anyhow, I don’t figure you got any problem with your cats finding their way back home. If that big orange tomcat can find his way back home from ten miles away, your kitties can certainly find their way back home from a few yards trailers away. And if not… well, look suspiciously at neighbors who have pickups, laundry baskets, and cat carriers. Just sayin’.

    – Badtux the Evil Penguin

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