Cat’s Meow
Oh Innernetz! Where do I begin? The hardest part about blogging is what to say after a lengthy absence. I’m going to forgo the Compulsory Retroactive Asskissing Pity Party and the tale of woe about antidepressants, side effects, life, death, and all that other bullshit that had my muses screaming like whiney little bitches: “Ohhh, I’m too sad to write! Oooohhhh! I’m too tired to write! Ooohhh, zombies!” But now they’re back kissing my ass because their unemployment benefits have run out. But there’s no room for them at my laxtop because there’s a new bitch taking up room on my keyboard — Morbidly Obese Cat. MOC is 20 pounds of drama with a high-pitched meow like an emphysematic helium sucking Fran Drescher and a penchant for catching mice. That he brings to me. One. Piece. At. A. Time.
This is why I got Morbidly Obese Cat. I had mice. Oh, sure, I had insomnia and mental illness and poverty and cramps. But you know what, Innernetz? I can live with all of that. You know what I can’t live with? Mice.
Fuck you, Walt Disney. Fuck you for so many awful, hideous things. But fuck you most of all, Disney, for thinking a mouse was cute or funny or charming or had even an ounce of anything approaching a personality worthy of stardom. And, come to think of it, this entire paragraph is worth repeating, except replace the word “mouse” with “Nicolas Cage.”
I have seen at least one mouse in every apartment I have ever had in New York City. Now, maybe some of you buy those humane mousetraps and drive your mice out to the woods so that snakes and owls can eat your city vermin instead of you having to kill them yourself. Good for you. I don’t do that. I murder them. And I am not nice about it. I had an electric rat zapper that fried mice so that they made a wet little sizzling sound — kssshhht! — when I dropped their smoking, still-twitching carcasses into the toilet. Don’t fuck with Dingo, Mickey. I am to mice what M. Night Shyamalan is to movies.
But my rat zapper broke. And Not A Dingo has never been one for catching mice. She’s a lovah, not a fighta. She’s six pounds of Hello Kitty on Xanax. I needed a monster, a Hannibal Lecter of cats. I wanted the mice in my apartment to wake up in unfamiliar surroundings bound to a sinister contraption watching my cat on a tiny TV saying, “I want to play a game.” I wanted internet sites most frequently visited by mice to have pictures of my cat with the caption, “I can haz death.” So, I went to the local animal shelter where I rescued Morbidly Obese Cat. MOC, a healthy black-and-white Domestic Short Hair, weighs more than three Not A Dingos. MOC means business. When you look into MOC, MOC also looks into you.
MOC doesn’t just catch the mice. He toys with them before ripping them into little mouse bits. He leaves the rodent chunks where he knows I spend most of my time. I might come home from work to find a mouse tail on my chair, or a head on my desk, or an unrecognizable lump of mouse on my pillow. It’s kind of nice not knowing what to expect, like having drinks with Mel Gibson.
Last Wednesday night, as I sat in bed nursing insomnia and a vodka cranberry, Mr. Dingo, Dingo Girl, and Not A Dingo snored peacefully beside me as MOC wheezed fitfully at the foot of the bed. Fuckers. Suddenly, MOC jumped up and ran down the hallway faster than Halle Barrie changes partners. From the living room I heard thudthumpbam! Several seconds of silence. And then BAM. I was so startled I spilled my drink. Oh helz no!
Buzzed and exhausted, I shambled down the dark hallway. “MOC, what the —” was cut short by an eeeeeiiiiwwwww! as my foot stepped on something soft, fuzzy, wet, and cold. So very, very cold. And nasty. I was afraid to look. But I didn’t have to. I could feel it. A thin cord-like tail pressed into my heel and a soft, moist, boneless body flattened and expanded between my curling toes. Vodka and cranberry infused vomit caught at the back of my throat as I hopped around on the unsullied foot banging into walls. Gah gah gah! I gurgled. Gah gah gah! I wiggled, whipped, and whirled until I was krumping down the hallway like a white guy at the Gangsta Ball. And then my knee buckled sending me crashing into the bathroom door. I hate our bathroom door. It sticks. Except when a hundred and none of your business pounds of Dingo slams into it.
When my butt bone and hand cracked on the floor, I saw stars. And, for the first time, I felt a twinge of sadness, like when you’re driving down the highway and come upon a furry, reddened patch of roadkill that you recognize as a once-vibrant and beautiful woodland critter. No creature deserves the ignominy in death of finding itself flattened between my second and third toes. I felt — Sweet baby jebus! What the fuck is this?! My fingers landed on something soft, moist, and lifeless. Gah gah gah! I began to crawl to the light switch and each agonizing inch revealed a new horror. It was the ghost of flushed mice past coming to get their revenge. Every step was littered with — I flipped on the light — tampons?
The bathroom cabinet was open and my brand new box of tampons was ravaged, its contents chewed, severed, and scattered across the floor. It was a tampon massacre! It had obviously been a group effort. I grabbed all the saliva-drenched shreds of cotton and bits of string and put them in their final resting place: the trash. Words were said. Sad words. Tampons are expensive. MOC came to see what all the fuss was about. He threw me a “Whatever, bitch” side-eye as he sauntered into the bedroom.
As I lumbered back to bed hoping for just a few hours rest before the day started, I stepped on another spit-soaked tampon. Damn it, MOC! I reached down to take it off my foot. Except, instead of a played-out Playtex, this was a ravaged rodent. Or at least part of one. The back half. Plainly, it had been a male. Gah gah gah! I am good at krumping.
Posted on Monday, December 06, 2010 at 11:31 AM.
Tags: Blogging, MOC
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Comments & Trackbacks
I am just glad you are alive. 
Though GROSS all the way around, really.
BLECH!!!! I, too, am glad you are alive. More about the wonderfulness of xanax next??
Gechhhhhh. And yet, awesome, in a completely disgusting way. Glad you’re up and about on the Innernetz again!
I’ve missed you. You and your furry creatures of doom.
Gah! Oh, and Eeeeww!
We have mice, too, but they have the good sense to stay either in the basement or between the walls; though, come to think of it, our geriatric cats really don’t pose much of a threat…
I’ve missed you. Welcome back.
Bahahahaha
Dude my heart grew to three times its size like the Grinch when I saw your post in my feed. Welcome back!!
I would NEVER EVER be able to handle dead mice in my house. A tail on my chair? I’d faint. It was very relieving to discover they were only tampons. Perhaps you have invented a new cat toy for me to try… I’m sure Mr. W would love that.
Oh. So gross. Yuck. And right after we discovered rat droppings in the diningroom too.... Fortunately we have Insane Spider Monkey Kitty to deal with them. He is spending his nights this week locked in at the scene of the crime. I’m just afraid he might make friends.
Good to hear from you again.
Just a day or two ago I was thinking about you, wondering how you’re doing, not once thinking you were being attacked by forces of mice and tampons. So glad to hear from you, nonetheless. We should chat… about life, work, antidepressants… anything but mice. Sending love your way, girl.
I had a good few laughs reading this. My dog was a mouser and it definately brough up some uninteresting and some unwanted stories.
Amazingly written. I’ll definately be showing this to some friends.
And I thought when you found the dead mouse in your laundry hamper, THAT was gross. NOW he’s destroying tampons? HELLS NO! Throw that cat out like Taylor Swift does boyfriends (thought I’d stick with your celebrity theme here....Nice job on that, by the way!) LOVE the Mel Gibson line!!
Now, if you stay off of the Internet this long again, I’m gonna have to pull a Charlie Sheen on yo ass! That’s right, I’m gonna invite you to a hotel, get all coked up crazy, freak you out, then sue you. Got it?!
I came over via Jules blog.
OMG very well written. I cannot imagine the horror of stepping on the soft squishy tailed anything regardless of it being mouse or tampon or anything EW! LMAO
I wear contact lenses and take them out for the night and once I saw my cat carrying something in her mouth and thought ew gross she is bringing me something dead - so I got up and put my glasses on to deal with it, only to find out it was NOT something dead as I had feared. Rather she had given birth to 5 kittens and was moving them to a better hiding place. (sigh). That was several years ago. I have a dog now.
Here via Jules as well. This is hilarious. And disgusting. I think I’d rather step on a dead mouse (barely) than massacred tampons. It sucks to be out the cost of a box.
So glad to hear from you. That first post is a hard one to write when you’ve been gone for a while. I need to write one myself. You’ve inspired me! Sadly, I have no dead mice stories, but I’ll think of something.
I was in NYC a few weeks ago for the Quidditch World Cup (oh hai! am geek, yes) and thought about you. Mostly when I was wandering around Hell’s Kitchen lost, at night, carrying a damn quidditch broom, with a seven year old kid, wondering who in the world I knew in NYC I could call (or email).
So yeah, missed ya.
Oh how I’ve missed you! You never call, you never write… (well, you apparently talk to JULES and so now I stalk HER trying to get tidbits about you… and cuz Jules is awesome...)
Sorry about the Great Tampon Massacre! Sounds lovely (lovely in a Lindsay Lohan on a bender sortve way)… at least you don’t have to worry about Xmas decorations, sounds like you have some balls to hang on the tree already!
Well, this is truly disgusting.
Kori — Hi Kori! It’s good to be back spreading disgusting good cheer to the Innernetz.
jane — Mmmm….xanax….
inkpuddle — I’ve missed the Innernetz. And what better story to tell than one that will make everyone wish they just stayed away.
k8 — MOC thug. He’s teaching me to be more street.
Mrs Chili — I can’t tell if we have mice in our walls or if it’s just our neighbors. In the walls. I’m never surprised by anything they do.
Krista Zee — And by “Bahahahaha” you mean “You poor thing, take another xanax and lie down,” right?
Mel Heth — And sometimes he leaves them on my pillow. He’s so proud of himself.
S.K. — If Insane Spider Monkey Kitty needs some lessons on how to get gangsta on some mice, I’ll have MOC put together a youtube video for him.
Lesley G — We definitely need to chat. No mice will be mentioned during the conversation.
Katherine — Dingo Girl is not a mouser. That may be my fault. The one time she caught one I screamed, “Spit it out! Spit it out!” For some reason cat catching mice is okay, my dog? Oh noes! She could get a disease!
Jules — Thank you for maintaining the Hollywood theme – sex, drugs, and domestic violence. That’s what friendship is all about.
Kimber Leszczuk — Well, at least your know your dog will never give birth to kittens and hide them from you.
Kate — Why don’t men have to pay some outrageous price for monthly maintenance of biological functions? It’s unfair! Not only that, we’re subjected to their over consumption of AXE body spray. Can we never win?
Shania — I’ve been behind on my blog reading but I do hope you wrote a post about your adventures in Hell’s Kitchen carrying a Quidditch broom.
MsDarkstar — They will be studying The Great Tampon massacre as a turning point in American politics for years to come.
Deidre Truly disgusting. Yep.
Big bloggy thanks for Jules (mean girl garage) for alerting me to you existence. Wowzer, I’m smitten.
Um, dead tampons. Those might have deserved the humane trap, eh? MOC is a bad ass kitty. She’s clearly no friend to anything with a tail. Is Not A Dingo safe? I fear, I do so fear.
Ack! I came over here from Jules’ blog, and I’m so glad I did. Holy shit. That was tragic, in a really great way.
Also, once I asked my husband to pick up tampons from the grocery store, and he got this pained look on his face and said, “Shit. Do you know how expensive those are??” like we were breaking the bank by virtue of my being a woman AND LIKE I HAVE SO MANY BETTER ALTERNATIVES. It’s good I am so forgiving and only remind him of it all the time.
Hahahaahahahahahahahahahaha
You’re probably just upset because you can’t find your rain boots. And Mr. Dingo has tiny hands.
You are still such a funny, funny bitch. My fucking GAWD, I’ve missed you. MOC sounds incredibly psychotic and ruthless. I like him. I like when animals pull their own weight around the house.
My cat is half the size of MOC, but every bit as sinister when it comes to leaving parts around the house. Only since she’s an indoor/outdoor kitty with a huge suburban yard to play in, her vermin leavings are varied--I’ve found the back half of a baby bunny in the catfood bowl, I once vaccumed up a bird heart by mistake and, most recently, had to barricade myself upstairs because of the snake she left on the steps. (Only it wasn’t actually a snake, it was a plastic hook thing.)
It’s been so long, I forgot that I really shouldn’t read your posts when I’m eating lunch!
P.S. What was this one? Where’s Waldo for your boots? Shit. It took me a minute to find them. NOT cool.
Ew. Ew. EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW. I don’t like mice, I don’t like ‘em, at all. Especially not a bloody quarter or half of them lying anywhere near my pillow. Ew. Ew. EWEEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW. EW.
Still very glad that you’re back by the way, and oh vodka...it should have totally been the Jesus juice of choice.
Woo! So glad you’re back! Great, hilarious post! Mel Gibson, Tampon Massacre, and Anti-Disney Rant! Scoooore!
if you can’t live with them you have to live without them so as long as you are sure I say either cut them, or start sleepin with them.
yep that’s what i reckon
Nicole(Ninja Mom) — Can I just call you NNM? We’re all friends here, right? Well, NNM, Not A Dingo and Dingo Girl are safe but I worry about myself when I wake up in the middle of the night and MOC is staring at me with those green eyes of his as he sharpens his claws on the headboard.
Andrea — You know what might be a better alternative? A Sham Wow. Tie some dental floss onto that fucker and you’ll never have to change a tampon again. Too much?
Fourtunes Fool — I’m sure that this will be one of those things I’ll look back on and laugh. You know, when I’m old, senile, and everything is funny?
flurrious — My rain boots are right there! How could you miss them? Mr. Dingo is not so concerned that I gave him tiny hands. He’s is wondering why I choose to give him no hair.
Summer — During one of my lowest days, MOC looked at me in disgust, “You think you’re crazy? I’ll show you crazy, bitch! I’ll show you crazy!” And then I realized he was just asking me to feed him in his bizarre meowing way. Okay, so this doesn’t really respond to your comment, but it is what happened.
Here In Franklin — Snakes and snake look-a-likes are a dealbreaker. Thank goodness there’s none of that nonsense here. Thanks for putting things into perspective.
April — Sorry ‘bout that.
Jules — But you found them! You win the prize. Send a self-addressed stamped envelope, you only pay $45.99 in shipping and handling!
Sadie — If they served vodka cranberries at church, I might have to rethink my ban on organized religion.
FHKW — I’m sure Walt is rolling in his cryogenic chamber.
dusti — How can I argue with that?
We had mice last year and the year before (thanks neighbours...) and the only thing that worked was poison.
I wonder if the people at Disney ever encountered a real live mouse at the studios? The kind that will run over your feet at 7am when you’re trying to reach your breakfast? I never got one stuck to my feet (I had one who decided to die underneath a cabinet, and one that was accidentally smashed between the door and wall when I entered the study) I think dead mice are ten times more creepy than live ones. Maybe Disney should collaborate with Tim Burton to show the real character of mice.
Krump on, sister!
Glad to have you back!
I think the last time I had a mouse I just used traps and peanut butter. No muss, no fuss no… bits.
Glad you’re back on the webs!
Girrrrrrrrrrl, you are eighty-five different kinds of funny!! Ohhhhh how I have MISSED you!! (That being said, you prolly missed me too...seeing as how I’ve been MIA as well. I know. You’ve cried veritable buckets of tears. Fess up.)
Please thank MOC for me. I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna be able to eat today....and it’s all thanks to tha kitteh-cat.
Mwuah! Don’t be a stranger!!!
“I wanted internet sites most frequently visited by mice to have pictures of my cat with the caption, “I can haz death.”
I’m sensing a MOC vs. Chuck Norris smackdown.
There’s so much I could say because this post is so wonderful. Especially because Nicolas Cage is terrible, terrible, terrible.
How great fun!
Marjolein — You’re back! Yaaaaay! A Disney/Tim Burton collaboration would have to involve Johnny Depp, right? I’m there, mouse or no mouse.
saratogajean — It’s not a pretty sight.
GeekHiker — I could never waste peanut butter like that. Maybe the mice would like some asparagus. I have some of that yuckiness hanging out in my fridge.
Ms. H — Daaahling, wherever have you been? I’ll stop by soon!
Matt Nelson — I just can’t stand him. I can’t. Who the hell keeps giving him movies?! Why wasn’t Wicker Man the last straw?!
Isabella — Um, thanks?
JeNN — A MOC v. Chuck Norris smackdown? I don’t think ol’ Chuck is up for it.
I may have fainted when you talked about mouse parts on pillows. Kitteh with the knife is the best.
Oh My God. I don’t know if I should be impressed by MOC’s hunting skillz or totally grossed out by dead bits o’ mice everywhere. I’ll try to be more impressed than gagging a little thinking about stepping on dead things.
Uuugh. Remember when you thought you could keep a cat in the dorm? Also, you named that cat Micheal. So, funny.
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My goodness that was sweet to read. Laughing out loud for real. You’re so good. It’s wonderful you’re back. I’ve had my share of depression and antidep meds - icky the whole lot so I understand completely. Hope you’re getting back on form. I missed you!! XOXO
How funny~~~
hey my darling dingo, i wrote a comment back in december and at first it wouldn’t post and then it looked like it went through, but now i realize it didn’t :( not sure what happened there...and i don’t remember what i wrote, though it was probably boring and/or stupid because i’m still sleep-deprived. but i’m so glad you posted because i missed laughing out loud at your escapades! can you post a real picture of your fatty catty?
That. Was fantastic. I’m glad you’re back.
Again with the mad photoshop / PAINT (?) skills.
I am jealous.
Hi there! I find your blog very cute and funny. You are really very good in Photoshop. I like the pictures you created. Your creativity is good.
WOW! By the way, if you are wondering who am I, I live on the other side of the world, Malaysia.
Ahhhhh! My pal, Dingo! happy to see you!
I too recently returned from that place . . . but it wasn’t mice. A bird got stuck in my wall - yes. And not even a cat could fix it. Bring on the exterminator!
Missed you!! Glad to see you are back on board....and that was hilarious...on too many levels!! See if you were a Diva Cup girl, you would never have to worry about stamping wet tampons! But this was a great laugh, my face still hurts! Love ya Dingo!
Crack me up! Sitting here reading this at 1:30am chuckling to myself. Good read for an insomniac. I look forward to more.
Nice thing to read, like Diana Taylor, I am an insomniac too, looking for some more. Have a nice, day, night, whatever.
Is this thing on?
How did you get the motion-y kind of effect on you???
You are hilarious! Glad you’re still there!
If you’re interested, we launched a new blog. Have a look!
hope all is well with you! missing your posts =))