Saturday, November 11, 2006

not for the weak of stomach

I detest cats. And they can tell. No matter how standoffish a cat generally is with new people, it always tries to slink around my feet and jump onto my lap and try to get me to pet it. Sometimes naive pet owners believe that this is the cat's way of being friendly. I know better. The cats can sense my dislike, and this is their way of getting back at me. They're clever little fiends.

Recently, however, they decided to step up their level of aggression against me. Their previous sort of obnoxiousess wasn't bothering me enough, I guess. And so they've changed tactics. Every couple days or so, they leave a dead mouse or dead bird in the hallway outside of my apartment door. And, to really make sure that they really get their message across, they like to disembowel the dead animals on my doorstep. There's nothing like blood and guts on your welcome mat to let you know that you're not welcome.

The neighbors and maintenance men have apparently lived under the cats' reign of terror for too long to defy them. No one will touch the cats' friendly little messages, although the cats sometimes move the dead animals a few feet, just to let us know that they're still out there.

When I was younger, I really liked the song "There are no cats in America." I only wish that it were true.

2 comments:

todorojo said...

Perhaps the song would be more appropriately named: "There are no cats in Antarctica." You'd probably be safe there.

Cindy said...

I'll take Antarctica into consideration. My roommate's idea is to put out poisoned milk. However, I'd rather not have a dead cat on the porch either, so I'm not sure that's the best solution.

By the way, after several days of rotting mouse in the hallway, my roommate asked one of our home teachers to remove the body for us. Aren't you glad you're not my home teacher now?