Wednesday, March 28, 2012


It bounded toward me from deep within the recesses of a just opened garage. A mechanical construct I figured, a Borg creature, part animal, part metal scrap and diodes. I stood transfixed as it leapt much like a wallaby must, and as it passed I recognized its form and began to laugh hard enough I was unable to catch my breath for a moment. You might visualize the scene, if you think of the quintessential Halloween black cat cutout that people are fond of taping in their living room windows; one of arched back, tail upright, hair rigidly elongated, and a face that could be described as pure evil attempting to hiss away all remnants of good in the world. With that in mind, one must alter the visual slightly. Put a Progresso soup can on the head of the beast, and then make it jump forward a meter high and wide again and again until you laugh yourself silly.

The news carrier who had just entered her garage came running past as well, in that "my baby is running off the edge of the Grand Canyon" pose, aiming for the bounding mechlokitty and howling like a manually cranked fire engine siren wound by a man in the midst of having a grand mal seizure. "Help me" she wailed as she got hold of the alien creature while trying to protect herself from the whirling of the claws. I did run to her side, though my feet were opposed, and I did take the thing from her arms and attempted to grip it in such a way that it would never escape, yet neither suffer a rib crushing. The cat objected, and for my benevolence I was given a scar or two (in progress) that went unnoticed until it appeared kitty was bleeding, at which time suffrage became important. Once I was found to be the red font, my injury was overlooked as I am big and manly and can take being bled to death, while poor little kittzy wittzy still had an evil can over its skull!

The woman pulled, I pulled back, the cat clawed. For what seemed like minutes, more likely seconds, we yanked and twisted and moaned ("Oh poor little thing") as we worked to free the animal from its folly. Luckily it happened to have been a pop-top type can, which laves no jagged edge to contend with; yet the lip on said can acted to pin the cats ears inside its recess, making it a little more difficult to extricate the animal. One couldn't simply hold its tail and twirl it around until the can popped off, as I may have done in other circumstances. No, it was delicate work for the surgeon, and for the human restraint, a special challenge to hold the flailing beast still, all the while being maimed.

Finally with a slight "pop", the can came loose and kitty calmed to the point of paralyzation. Within moments the animal within my tattered arms recognized its black face was awash in lovely, tasty orange soup byproduct, and began to purr and lick its eyebrows, as cats are wont to do. I could only envy his prowess, as my tongue can barely reach my nose.

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