I think my cat has anger issues.

Last night, I was poking around on the internet, reading blogs and generally minding my own business. MB was sitting on the couch behind me, watching a movie on TV. Suddenly I heard this weird howl-y noise that didn't sound like it came from the TV. I said, "Was that you?" and MB replied, "No, it was the cat." I turned my incredulous stare to the cat's backside, which was sticking out between the curtains that cover the sliding door to the tiny patio and backyardlet. Just as I said, "Kitters, was that YOU?" he let out another howl. It was sort of a mix of sounding like a dog and sounding hella creepy. I knew, just knew, what I would see when I opened the curtain. Sure enough, I flipped on the outside light, whipped the curtain aside, and saw The Nemesis sitting in the grass just beyond the patio.

The Nemesis is a scruffy orange tabby tomcat, somewhat smaller than Kitters. I feel sort of bad for him, because he's all scruffy and lives outside and shit, but this guy must talk some mad smack when he comes around, because whenever he does show up, Kitters becomes absolutely incandescent with rage.

The Nemesis was also involved in a scene that I can accurately say ranks in my Top Five Stupid Moments of All Time. On August 1st of last year, Kitters was at the sliding door, freaking the hell out, just like last night. When I opened the curtains, I saw The Nemesis sitting on the patio, mere feet from the glass, and he was hissing at my cat. I was PISSED, let me tell you. Coming in my cat's yard? Sitting on my cat's patio? Hissing at my cat THROUGH HIS OWN WINDOW? Hell no! (Ahem. Sorry. My mom says I attribute too many human feelings to my cat, but shit, dudes...how unfair is it that he should have to put up with this disrespect simply because he's not allowed outside?)

So I, great genius that I am, decided that I'd slip out the door and chase the cat away, after waving, yelling, and banging on the window didn't work. I figured that Kitters wouldn't even notice me opening the door, since he never tries to go outside. (I can hear your mocking laughter, by the way. You could at least try to stifle it.) You can probably guess what happened next. As soon as the screen door was open a few inches, Kitters went barreling out into the yard. The only thought in my mind as I saw him shoot by me was, "Oh my God, I've just lost my cat." I was horrified. Our building and back lawn abuts a busy street and we're buffered by one building in the front from the damn highway, so I instantly figured Kitters was either going to get mauled in a fight or run out into the path of a car.

As soon as Kitters came roaring out, The Nemesis jumped the fence and took off. Luckily, blessedly, Kitters didn't understand the fence, and dove into the bushes at the base of it, where he stomped and thrashed and yelled for a few minutes. I was shouting at him the whole time, yelling stupid things like, "No, bad Kitters! Bad! You are NOT allowed outside!" (I really wonder sometimes what the neighbors think of us.) He came over to me and looked up at me with an expression like, "Oh, shit. I'm in trouble," so I figured he understood. I reached to pick him up, and he bit me on the arm. He had turned his head away and didn't see me reaching for him, and so when I grabbed him, he probably figured I was the other cat, attacking. It hurt SO DAMN BAD, too. I'll post a picture at the end, if people promise not to ralph or anything. It's not that bad. Or it wasn't, until it turned all pink and infected a few days later and I had to go to the urgent care clinic to get antibiotics and a tetanus shot. Ooooops. Gah.

So, lesson learned: Cat + Rage + Yielding Flesh = bad, bad things.

Tonight I managed to chase The Nemesis away with exaggerated (and probably painfully comical) arm-waving and foot-stomping. I think Kitters was embarrassed out of his anger. I don't even know why I'm typing this all out. I have a feeling it'll be one of those entries that no one really reads because it's really not that interesting, except in my head. Ah, well. At least you all will know that you'd better not come around my house, sitting on my back porch and hissing and shit! Cuz if you do, boy-howdy, you'll GET IT! From KITTERS! Or from me! Waving my arms and stomping! Take that!



I think Snakes on a Plane is a terrifically awful movie title.

But this made me laugh:

"So what will happen if this “animals on a vehicle film” really takes off? Here are some predictions:

‘Badgers on a Hovercraft’

At some point Hollywood is going to run out of either vehicles or animals and that's where Roger Corman steps in, executive producing this “we'll never be out of animals or vehicles” knock-off. Did anyone besides me see “Dinocroc”? Corman can do anything. Besides, badgers are both mean and dangerous on land. Hovercrafts make them extra angry."



I hope you're still reading, because this is so beyond fabulous:

My favorite bibliophile sent me a talking greeting about Snakes on a Plane.

OMG I LAUGHED SO HARD.

I got it right after I finished typing the part about the cat and while I was writing the part about the movie. He said, "Quit obsessing over your pet," and I was like, "It's true! Samuel L. Jackson IS God!"

So, anyhow. Snakes on a Plane, everybody! And my grody arm!