Based on a true story Bought a godamned pumpkin pie at the supermarket bakery. First of the season. On sale. Took it home and cut it, took one bite, and nearly threw up. How could I be so stupid. A supermarket pie. Left it on the counter for a few days or weeks. Seemed like the crust began to disappear. I waited until it was gone to be sure. Now I had a pumpkin pie with one slice missing, sans crust. I put it on the floor and in a few days or so, the rest of the pie began to disappear. Split teeth marks appeared clearly on the pumpkin. I thought I could see claw marks. But that could have been my delusive tendencies . I was pretty sure I still had a mice problem. That just couldn't be true. I had a cat. I turned to the cat. “You're not doing your job,†I told her. And began to rant and rave about her role and responsibilities. She replied but I was unable to figure out what she said, or more importantly, how she said it. I tried to portray to her how serious the situation was. I went over the half eaten and twice clawed pumpkin pie. I pointed at the pie, my index finger as as close as I could. I had learned that her ability to discern where I pointed was limited. Not uncommon in cats or dogs. She sat there quietly not listening, constantly looking away, not looking at all while I ranted and raved. Finally she left. That was it. I return to my couchlock position. About ten minutes later, ten minutes, no shit, she returns to me with a mouse in her mouth, still alive. I sit and watch as she plays with the mouse for 5 minutes, pouncing on it, slapping it, and finally she lets it escape under the vacuum cleaner. She circled the machine a few times and finally the mouse tried to make a run for it. She pounced. The mouse feigned death, all four legs straight up in the air, then turned over and ran away. The cat just watched. I tried to impress on her that she should've killed the damned sonofabitch. She looked at me, blinked o-so slowly, then turned and left. True story.
Cats are all about tormenting. A lot of the time they just bat the mouse around, swat it, chew on it, throw it into the air, and it ends up dead... Only a proud cat makes sure it is dead, and brings it to the doorstep. I used to step out back and find piles of gopher intestines and rat furs (just the skin and fur). Some cats are proud fucking savages. Like mine, she's a fucking pimp "She was living in a single room with three other individuals. One of them was a male and the other two, well the other two were female. God only knows what they were up to in there. And furthermore, Susan, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to learn that all four of them habitually smoked marihuana cigarettes..... REEFERS"
lol, my first 3 apartments in Toronto had a cockroach and rodent problem. I made the mistake of leaving a cake on the counter in the first apartment. Stepped out for a few, came back in to large, grotesque bite marks missing. I felt disgusted and violated all at the same time. Third place, I'd get up in the middle of the night to go to the kitchen for a glass of water. Turn on the kitchen light... the floor, the walls, the counters, the ceiling... COVERED in literally thousands of cockroaches, all scurrying out of sight in less than a second. So disturbing. How many more are there in hiding? Went back to bed without the water. Damn, I wish I had a cat.