We had an incident here at 245 involving one HEIFER, her tail, combined with one wheelchair. The crime scene was located in the kitchen area and while there was no blood to clean up, the sound volume of the incident is still ringing in my ears.
The day began innocently enough, with everyone napping through the morning after receiving aromatic bowls of fish. Abby took to the Lazyboy in the office, laying on top of heaps of fleece and snoring in a pleasing tempo. At one point though, the pitch got higher and I actually stopped what I was doing because I thought it was some kind of alarm going off but I traced the sound directly to the ball of fur and that was that.
THE HEIFER was on the back of the couch, passed out in some kind of fish induced coma, causing slight alarm every now and again as I would stroll by and deduce that she was dead. When this happens, I sneak up on her, touch her fur and she will meow. To date, I haven’t had to dispose of a corpse; so far, so good. However, to be safe I continue to purchase shoes to ensure that I have a box ready, just in case. As her weight seems to ebb and flow, I throw in the odd pair of boots too. Bigger boxes, don’t you know. I am very organized.
As time was innocently ticking down to the Incident, Bru and I were going about our daily activities as well. He was on his computer, and watching TV while I was working on my computer, checking out various scandals on You Tube, watching Trey Gowdy on American Congress, looking for updates on the Las Vegas shootings by weeding out conspiracy from reality, binging the show Riverdale, and just generally avoiding responsibility at all cost.
I was dressed to go out and it was almost time to leave and as I came out of the office I saw Bru’s wheelchair heading backwards in the kitchen. He was in it, by the way. I caught a brief glimpse of THE HEIFER in his path and then heard the scream of a cat that has been slightly injured as the wheel went over her tail, but it was more the sound of a ballerina who has collapsed during Swan Lake at the Met on her first night out, with two rows of critics waiting to tell her story.
THE HEIFER ran from the room and took refuge on the bed. Bru was horribly distressed but not so much that it had brought him to tears or anything. I believe I was again able to pinpoint exactly where Reggie gets his penchant for swearing from some of the things I heard that day.
I went after THE HEIFER to see if she was okay. She was up on the bed, kind of standing there in disbelief that she had been turned on in such a blatant way. I believe she may have thought we would have been more covert when we finally came for her and she wasn’t expecting such a full frontal attack. Plus, we came for the tail, which is her pride and joy because she walks with it straight up in the air so everyone can see her ass. And, she can wag portions of her tail if she wants. She can wag 2 inches of her tail or 6 inches of her tail. I have mused over this many times and I cannot make sense of why a cat would wag a certain length of her tail, whether it is proportionate to her happiness, and how she can actually make only a certain length wag. This is usually done while she is laying on the floor so you can see the wagging portion quite clearly. She can even curl the top over like a candy-cane when she is walking and I have often wondered if that means she has a question, because it also looks like a question mark. That would be very clever.
Back to the incident. She is on the bed, texting her lawyer, and I come along to see if she is okay. I manage to get her to lay down and I check the tail over carefully for breakage and it seems fine, but a bit sore in one area.
Meanwhile, in the back of my mind I’m thinking I’ll have to console Bruce too, when I hear the toaster popping, four slices if I’m not mistaken, then the sound of toast being buttered by someone humming, and I realize that he is recovering quite nicely on his own.
About that time Abby arrives, reeking of fleece and cat farts, and she makes a beeline for THE HEIFER and starts sniffing the injured tail from top to bottom. THE HEIFER allows this because, well, she’s has been attacked in her own home by those she trusts and therefore, she is a VICTIM. Abby sniffs the full length again and I believe she is about to offer her own tail as a replacement for the injured one, as long as she is cleared as a valid donor, when THE HEIFER just smacks Abby on the head.
Abby stops sniffing, now in shock at this new betrayal. I look at THE HEIFER like, Seriously? From the other room I hear someone take a huge bite of toast – raisin, if I’m not mistaken, still humming, too.
THE HEIFER just looks at me, bright green eyes, no malice; it’s just that the opportunity to smack Abby will always trump any and all injuries along with any kind acts Abby directs toward her. Devil Child.
I pet THE HEIFER one last time, look sadly at Abby and leave the bedroom, safe in the knowledge that at least I am not the most evil one in the house today. At this point, I may even rank 3rd.