Aunt Suzy is outside my home office window right now. She's meowing her freaking head off. I've tried to write four different columns today and have failed miserably. The reason I am so miserably failing at column-writing is because I can not concentrate and the reason I can't concentrate because Aunt Suzy is outside my office window meowing her freaking head off.
For those of you who don't know the ongoing saga of Piss Cat, as we not-so-lovingly refer to her, here you go: Aunt Suzy is my cat from before I got married. She is half Siamese-half spawn of Satan and has been urinating throughout our household for some time now. In the last year, it had gotten really bad. She pissed on the couch, she pissed on the recliner, she pissed on the rugs, she pissed on the flooring, she pissed in our shoes, she pissed on the bed and every once in a while, while we slept, she pissed on us. It's been an oppressive existence and we've been enduring the tyrant's rain of terror for about 4 years now.
And yes, we tried, we really really tried not to blame her for her megalomaniacal ureter. Suzy has been with us a long time. We consider her a family member and really truly do love that old Piss Cat and I'm quite certain Piss Cat loves us too. But you can only live under the domain of a tyrannical micturator for so long before a putrid cloud of resentment forms. And whenever I consider the love/hate dichotomy of our relationship, I can't help but hear the Roger Daltrey song that has been the soundtrack to our existence for so many years now.
"Love reign o'er me, rain on me."
We tried everything to make her stop. Nothing worked. In recent months we started covering the living room furniture with these big, ugly, blue plastic tarps. Of course, Der Fuherer just emptied herself on top of the tarps, which is preferable, I guess, to her soiling the furniture, but it did present its own set of difficulties. Like, for instance, what happened the other day - an incident I call, Catastrophe at Reclining Chair. . .
I had been working in my office all afternoon and decided to take a TV break. I proceeded to remove the tarp from the recliner. Not noticing the puddle of cat piss on the center of the tarp, I grasped a corner to shake it up and off the couch in much the same way your shake a beach towel to dispatch the sand. In doing so I threw the puddle of urine into the air which then showered back down upon my head and face.
Only love can bring the rain/that falls like tears/like tears from on high.
As the unholy monsoon cascaded upon my person, a bolt of rage surged through me. It was as powerful a bolt of rage as any I've ever experienced. It was the kind of bolt of rage that stabbed Nancy Spungen in the gut. It was the kind of bolt of rage that pulled the straight razor across Van Gogh's ear. It was the kind of bolt of rage that thrusts a person into that other, nether universe - where it's always dark, except for the orange glow of hellfires that blaze on the hillsides and light the underside of the immense black clouds that float low in the atmosphere.
As her feline ejecta soaked into my hair and shirt I could hear Roger Daltrey screaming out a great, screaming, despair-filled scream.
Love! Reign o'er me. Rain oh'er me! . . .
I saw Suzy cowering in the corner and I became flooded with the desire to twist off her head and pour splintered chicken bones down her throat.
...LAAAAAOOOOOVE, Rain over me, reign over me. Rain oh-oh-oh-oh oh-ver me, me-ee-ee-eeeah-uh meeee.
And then, like the song that has been the soundtrack to our lives for so many years, the urge to murder my cat ebbed into a soft, throbbing sorrow and I returned from the nether, other alternate universe of dark rage. It was then that I made a decision. From now on, Suzy would be banned outside. With that, I gently placed her onto the stoop and shut the door behind her.
That was 5 days ago. She's been meowing her freaking head off ever since. All day long, from the moment I wake up and put her outside, until we let her back in at night, she stands by my office window going, "Meow, meow, meow." She's out there now, meow. She never stops. Just goes, Meow, meow, meow, meow, incessantly, like she has a cyborg throat. Meowmeowmeow all day. It's like Siamese water torture. She also says "Mmow" (I'm cold) and "Muh-ow," (I'm lonely), and Muwwo-mow-muw (Can't you see I'm dying out here?) and now it's deadline time for Sordid Tales. But I can't write Sordid Tales because I can't freaking concentrate. And while I realize, maybe this time, I can get away with writing a column about how I can't write a column, I certainly can't keep doing it. I'm beginning to think that it might be time to make some difficult choices.
EPILOGUE: The decision was made to take Aunt Suzy to the Humane Society. It was an extraordinarily rotten thing to have to decide. I was so distraught with the idea of having to turn her out, I couldn't even bring myself to do it. Instead, I made W. bring her to the Humane Society. I mistakenly figured it would be easier for her because Suzy wasn't her cat.
It was a pussy move.
When W. came home from the Human Society, her eyes were red and wet from sobbing. She had managed to stop crying for the moment. But the remnant of her breakdown was all I needed. As soon as I saw her face I began sobbing. My sobbing made her start sobbing all over again. We fell into each others arms and sobbed together.
Only love can bring the rain
that falls like tears from on high.
Ed Decker
R.I.P. Aunt Suzy
Comments (1)
I'm glad to hear we aren't the only poeple with a cat from hell. Sorry to hear your story didnt' have a happy ending. But think of it this way. She may have it happier with somoene else who doesn't have anohter cat!
Our cat is 5-6 months old. Zoey she loves to bite when we refuse to feed her another cup of food when Dan has fed her already, she has pissed on the boys bean bag, next to her litter box. We changed her litter and we thought the pissing stopped. But to my amazement as soon as daybreak comes I can smell cat piss. Dan on the ohter hand is in deniel cause be likes the cat. I think more than me cause it's quieter than I am. So guess who gets more affection?! The cat. I closed the door to hour bedroom refusing to share with a cat and not to allow her to piss on my bed or in the room. I think she has pissed on the leather funiture but difficult to actually find it. Dan said , it's just the couch, leather smells like that. I said, we had the furniture for 8 years it never smelled. The cat is pissiing on it. She is spayed and declawed in front. The puppy we took to the farm were she would be happier playing with other dogs. The cat used to play with the puppy maybe thats why she is pissing? I want to get rid of the cat to the shelter as well but may have to think of a different way to do it. Cause the family likes here and can't smell the piss. Wait till the heat comes on in winter they will smell it! your thoughts on this if you wish!
Patricia
Posted by Patricia and Dan | September 17, 2008 12:56 PM
Posted on September 17, 2008 12:56