Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Monday, Apr. 11, 2005 - 10:07 p.m.

Okay. The gophers have ceased to be "quaint". When you leave a perfectly fine house which you have just spent the evening cleaning, go out to the damn Arco for a soda, and come back 10 minutes later to a gopher literally torn in half and bleeding out right in the middle of your hardwood floor, enough is efuckingnough.

I have had it with the corpses, the live creepy crawlies and the incessant frigging meowing that never, ever stops unless the cat is asleep. It isn't cute, it isn't quaint, it isn't adorable, and I don't give a good golfuckingdamn what the cat wants. It's a huge motherf'g pain in the ass.

Friday night at about 3:30 in the morning, there was a hellish ruckus up on the roof. A cat screamed twice and was cut off in mid-scream, followed by a thump so loud and hard it actually rattled the windows. That was followed a second or two later by a dog or coyote trotting off of the roof in the other direction. I got up to check and see if there was a badly injured cat lying out on the deck, as it sounded like that's where the body landed, but no such thing. I figured a coyote had gotten in thru the open gate and made short work of the cat, as she had just woken from sleeping and ventured outside 15 minutes before. To my complete and utter non-surprise, I found I felt absolutely nothing at the thought she might be snack food other than to hope that if a coyote had gotten her, she had indeed been polished off and was not dying a slow and agonizing death. Given the number of brutalized gophers we've had to discard in the last 2 months, however, it would only be fitting, as the fucking cat has completely evolved into Caligula. If she were a character on Buffy or Angel, she would be evil to the core. She tortures the crap out of everything she brings into this house, and is NOT a warm, loving creature. I don't hate her, but neither do I like her, and the tenuous peace that lies between us is fading, and fading fast. I am entirely too familiar with the inner workings of gophers to be tolerant any longer.

And to top it all off, TB not only loves her, he adores her and places her higher in the pecking order of this house than I am. Which fucking thrills me to no end and will be the thing that makes it easy to move out of this house. I will not be outranked by a fucking stray cat, especially one I am responsible for the feeding and care of.

So there will be no more little anecdotes about gophers or lizards or their breatheren. And whether or not it makes me a bad person, I would be really, really happy if the damn cat found a home somewhere else...or just didn't happen to come around anymore, for whatever reason. Because I am familiar enough with the Circle of Life on my own; I do not need to live out The Lion King every other day in my frigging living room. Thank you very much.

Peace out,
Katie

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