This week’s post is a guest post by someone who is totally not me. They may sound exactly like me, but they are not me. We just went to all the same schools with all the same teachers throughout. You may meet them in person and they look exactly like me, but that’s just a case of ‘when you live with somebody long enough, you start to resemble them’.
Last weekend, I watched Scent of a Woman for the first time. It is the heart-warming tale of a student who takes a job as the assistant to a blind, retired Lieutenant Colonel while his family is away on Thanksgiving weekend. The man takes the student with him on a trip where he plans to commit suicide. I won’t get into details, but the movie was so good that it earned Al Pacino the Oscar for Best Actor.
Being the critic on serious social matters that I am, I decided to focus on a cat that was in only two scenes of the entire movie. That cat got me thinking about the one I live with. Before you say anything, know that it was either a post about cats or fifty reasons why “hoo-ah!” is my new catch phrase.
I refer to it as the cat I live with, because I don’t know who the owner is. I don’t even know if it has an owner. It just showed up one day and never left, probably as an allegory for what my sister’s mother-in-law will do in the future. This cat doesn’t even have a name, although I will occasionally refer to it as Thanos because it sits around all day doing nothing but it is as evil as they come, just like all cats.
Before I continue, I want to make it clear that the cat is female and Thanos is a male name, but here we believe in equality, and that gender really doesn’t matter in some situations.
This cat, like I said, does a whole lot of nothing around the house. It just walks around and falls asleep anywhere it pleases. It doesn’t even go for soft surfaces exclusively, much like this cat here that actually has two names. Sometimes it sleeps on the parts of the floor where the carpet doesn’t cover, sometimes it’s the branches of a dry tree. One time I locked it inside the fridge to see what it would do, and after minutes of waiting, I opened the fridge and found it asleep. Calm down, PETA and all other animal rights activists – there hadn’t been power in the house for hours that day, so the fridge was sufficiently warm. It’s also why I was tossing cats into fridges instead of watching movies all day like I should have been.
I cannot stress enough how much this cat just falls asleep anywhere. Sometimes I’ll lie down on the couch and this thing will walk in. It’ll jump onto the couch and then on me. It starts walking all over my chest, sometimes marching on one spot, sometimes turning around on one spot. Then it decides to become more irritating and starts prodding my neck with its paws which are only ever cold at that time for some reason. Maybe it’s trying to give me bronchitis or some other respiratory disease. Maybe it’s checking for a pulse to know just how to finish me with one blow should I ever deny it milk. All I know is that it’s up to no good. I believe this because it does this only to me, and only when everybody else is asleep. Maybe it’s not too happy with the fact that I’ve finally seen beyond the fur and discovered its true wickedness.
Because I fear for my life, sometimes I’d take it outside and leave it there to mingle with all the other cats in the neighborhood. But a few minutes later, I’d see it right back in the house. This went on for days, and my theories on how it could get back into the house ranged from witchcraft teleportation to Star Trek teleportation. After a long time of mental unrest and investigation, I found out that the cat does this thing where it moves a short distance from the house then runs fast and knocks the kitchen window open. This cat is either a genius that hates socializing with other cats or a genius that’s more determined to kill me at night than I thought.
Sometimes I’ll try to make friends with Thanos so I won’t have to live in fear. I’ll try to play with it like I see so many cat owners do on the Internet. But Thanos does not seem to grasp the concept of fun. Thanos stares at balls of yarn, doesn’t dart after light spots or chase stuff that’s dragged on the ground. So I’ll try the ultimate move. The one that every cat owner who has watched The Lion king has tried at least once in their lives. Don’t lie. But even then, Thanos doesn’t co-operate.
Thanos gets on my nerves a lot. Every time it finds me typing on my laptop, it almost always makes a point of walking all over my keyboard. I place the cat on the floor and continue my typing, but it always gets right back onto the keyboard, forcing me to try and ask it nicely to go away. Naturally, it doesn’t listen because Lucifer sent it to test my patience. You may think that it doesn’t leave because it can’t understand me, but I know it does. It does everything my mother tells it to. If she tells it to get off the table, it meows a futile protest but gets down immediately. Maybe they have their own secret language. This wouldn’t surprise me, as my mother knows a few languages and has the habit of switching in the middle of a conversation.
Mother: Please get me a drink.
Me: Be specific. What kind?
Me: I didn’t catch that.
Me: I don’t speak German.
Mother: [getting angry] Metsi!
Me: What language is that? Is that French?
Me: WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!
I guess what I’m trying to say is, if ever I’m found dead in this house with a cat beside me licking its paws furiously like it’s trying to get rid of evidence, there’s only one being responsible.
Its name is Thanos.
I hope you enjoyed that post by someone who isn’t me but merely sounds like me. Everybody knows I’m incapable of living with any animal smaller than a mastiff or pit bull, of course.