I've got a bone to pick with my neighbors about their fucking cats.
I normally don't see the cats in this neighborhood, or at least rarely see them, but for some reason this week has seen an explosion in the visible feline population with several deleterious effects.
The question I have is; why is it that everyone and their mother finds it necessary to let their cats out when there's the remnants of two major snowstorms about (now three: we got another 6" of snow last night), the streets and sidewalks are full of freezing-cold ice and filthy water with a heavy salt content, and the temperature is lower than a democrat's IQ?
I don't recall seeing cats all summer, but I'm seeing a bunch of them every night now. And I don't mean like early in the evening, either; I'm talking seeing prides of night-stalking kitties at all hours of the evening. I keep expecting to hear a David Attenborough voice-over when one of these prides passes the house.
And there are several groups of them, too. I've counted at least three little kitty street gangs active in the neighborhood. It's like the Sharks and the Jets, only with hairballs.
Having this many cats running loose, of course, leads to certain problems. Prime amongst them are the raucous catfights at all hours of the night, the garbage pails knocked over and the plastic bags within all ripped up, trash strewn all over the place, as the cats snack on household refuse.
However, the biggest woe is my next-door neighbor's tabby, who has the most annoying "meow" that I have ever heard. It sounds like a crying infant with a harelip. It is the strangest and most distressing sound I can remember ever having heard.
And you can set your watch by it: 2:00 A.M., every fucking morning, that cat sits at the front door and calls out until someone gets up and lets it back into the house. Eventually, usually at 3:30 or so, the cat manages to achieve success. The entire time, my testicles retreat into my chest cavity, and my sphincter clenches with every meow. The sound is that horrendous.
I hate cats. I hate cats more than just about any other living creature on this planet. It's a toss-up as to whether I hate Muslims or Cats more; if I had my way, this War on Terror bullshit would include a campaign to kill cats, too. Cats are nasty, cats are sneaky, cats are vindictive, and cats are stupid. An ex-girlfriend once had a cat (that I bought her because she wanted a pet), and this fucking animal did nothing but eat, shit, and climb the Venetian blinds in the dead of night. I kept secretly praying he'd hang himself with the sash cords.
Never happened. If you got close, he ran off, or worse, took a swipe at you (she refused to have this 10-pound cat de-clawed because that would be "inhumane" and leave him "defenseless"). The only time this thing would welcome or initiate any sort of contact was if there was food involved. He wasn't a pet; he was a museum exhibit that would sit high on the bookshelf, and you could only admire him from across the room.
A show of loyalty or appreciation, like you'd get from a dog?
Other than the occasional dead cockroach proffered as a peace offering, I'd say no. The thing displayed far less fidelity than Charlie Sheen does. The only thing constant about it's behavior was it's ability to wake me up to feed it by standing on my chest and kneading...with it's claws deployed. As soon as it woke me up, it would jump off the bed and go hide.
Of course, there are few things as disgusting as cleaning a litterbox (somehow, this became my job when the ex-girlfriend didn't feel like doing it, and I couldn't stand smelling it, anymore), just one of the great joys of cat ownership. If the smell doesn't make you want to gag, there's always the excitement one feels when finding the sandy little turds the cat kicked under the refrigerator while trying to bury it's crap to bring you blissful happiness.
Cats suck. People who love cats suck harder. I'm getting pretty annoyed at being awoken in the wee small hours by people's pets as they fight in the streets, raid my garbage pails, or howl and fuck right under my bedroom window.
Now, I could take matters into my own hands and mete out my own brand of anti-feline justice; I have a Super-Soaker, and I'm told that a mixture of water and vinegar is quite effective in teaching wayward cats a lesson. I also have a couple of squirrel traps handy, and I could easily rig them with guillotine blades. I will, however, do neither.
I'm not going to shoot anyone's cat with a douche mixture, nor will I trap and decapitate any cats, as much as I'd like to. I do respect people's property, and besides, I couldn't make some child sad with the loss of a beloved pet. However, I'm really pissed -- I'm certain that others are, too -- and I think it's time to do something about it. So, I'm hanging up the following note to my neighbors all over the neighborhood this morning:
Dear Cat-Owning Douchebag,
There are some of us in this neighborhood who enjoy a good night's sleep, something difficult to come by at the best of times, but almost impossible to achieve when someone's cats are fucking under your bedroom window, knocking over the garbage pails, fighting in the streets, or howling all night long to be let back indoors.
You know it happens, because you hear it, too -- you know you do -- you just don't care. So long as the cat isn't your house making all this noise, you couldn't care less about the effect your careless pet ownership is having on your neighbors.
Keep your cats in your own house, and on your own property, please. If you can't do this, then don't be surprised when someone (not necessarily me) decides that your child's pet has become a pest and then does the unthinkable. You just know that there's at least one person in this neighborhood just crazy enough to do it, too.
Before your cat goes MIA, or you find a little kitty head on your coffee table, do yourself --and everyone else -- a favor; BE RESPONSIBLE AND HAVE SOME CONSIDERATION FOR OTHERS, ASSHOLE!
You have to be firm with these people in order to get your point across, sometimes. If this goes on much longer, I might forget my aversion to killing an animal and break out my slingshot and steel ball bearings.