May 18, 2006

Down At The Kitty Rodeo

In which Irrelephant cannot decide if he wants to name the post "Felis Notso Domesticus," or "Faster Pussycat, Kill! Kill!"

Yes that's right, it's never a dull morning in the Irrelephant Household when a very small and rather unruly kitty has to go to the vetrinarian to be fixed ("But Pa, I didn't know she was broke") and a small dog has to get her teeth cleaned.

Easy one first--Penny (aka Penny Pocket, aka Peaunt Penny aka Penny With Peanuts In Her Pockets) needs her teeth cleaned. Her previous owners fed her solely on soft food, which as we all know has no crunchy bits in it to clean tartar and buildup off small teeth, so Penny has tartar, and halitosis bad enough to blister clothing. The process for getting Penny to the puppy dentist?

  • "Penny, get in the car."
  • "Penny, hop in your bed."
  • "Okay Penny, I'll see you after work. Be good for the vetrinarian."
  • Pick up freshly dentrified pup after work.

The process of getting Fiona The Hostile to the vetrinarian?

Wow. I'm not even going to try and list it, I'll be here all day.

The short version involves the wife trying to catch her and earning an earfull of growls and a finger full of claws, then me trying to catch her and earning a palm full of claws and a non-puncturing bite as well as a cacaphony of yowls and growls, and then the wife getting the dog's leash and turning the den into a rodeo arena, roping Fiona with the leash and letting her realise the inevitability of her situitation, then trying to stuff her into the cat carrier without losing a finger.

See, the problem is that Fiona is a daughter of Mamie, who was the Original Outside Cat. Mamie was a dear sweet thing, but she had no problem, in pure cat behaviour, in letting you know in no uncertain terms that she was tired of attention, or required more attention, or wanted to play. Having sharp claws and teeth can make for an excellent focal point of your desires. And Fiona, being her kit, lived her first few weeks tasting Wild Milk from Mamie, so she's got a heaping helping of Alec from A Clockwork Orange in her belly. She's a dear unless she's hormonal or aggravated or tired or otherwise put out, and doesn't mind telling you.

Me, I find it refreshing. She's a CAT, in every sense of the word, quite unlike the five other eating and sleeping machines we have in the house, who have long since forgotten their Wild Milk Days. But, it's also a little unbearable when there are five others in the house who relish their sleeping and peace, just like their owners, so Fiona The Utterly Bezeek is getting repaired this morning.

And if anyone tells me that I should kill her, or hit her in the head, or leave her in the yard on a piece of clothesline or anything else foolish like that I'll remind you that she's a cat, she's defending herself in the only way she knows how, and that I find suggestions of doing harm to animals utterly reprehensible and a sign of a really sad, sick person. Also might I remind you that I get that same sort of behaviour from most humans, who have the luxury of speech and emotional control, and I don't hit YOU, now do I? Although I have thought about the wisdom of staking some of you out in the yard overnight.

I also love her dearly, the little witch, because she likes mayonaise.


Nancy Dancehall said...

"Wild Milk Days"

May I steal that? For what, I don't know yet.

Nancy Dancehall said...

P.S. Go with 'Faster Pussycat, Kill! Kill!' for sure.

Irrelephant said...

Yes, you most certainly may! And next time I post concerning the wee beasties I shall take the Faster title into my heart. *S*

Vulgar Wizard said...