Wednesday, May 2, 2012

The High Price of Freedom

Tommy, Tommy, why oh why couldn’t you have just chained Morton to his house!

I’ve always hated him, his slobbering alone could drive any civilized animal mad. You’d have thought we’d have been able to be friends even though, well you know, we’re not from the same family and all. If you think about it we were like fraternal twins, living the same life in different bodies; yea, we were like genetic clones, only my genome had a hairball attached and his had a bone.

Sure he smelled bad, don’t they all; I mean most of his kind of course, I’m really not a bigot, it’s just you know, some stereotypes have a little truth in them. And oh yea, when it rained… holy moly I could hardly get near him before I’d pass out from the stench, there’s nothing that makes one dizzy so fast as the fumes of wet dog. Well, except for skunks I suppose, but at least they have the good manners to keep that crap in a little pouch and only use it when they’re going to be eaten.

But hey, I know it was just his inbreeding, it’s not like he asked to only like licking his penis and not his fur, you can hardly hold an animal responsible for instinct. Teach an old dog new tricks? Sure, to catch Frisbees maybe; but not to flush the toilet or take a daily bath or red the damn paper aloud instead of carrying it inside the master’s house in that wet, gooey mouth.

Anyway, it wasn’t really his hygiene problems that gave me scratch fever, it was his attitude. He had that “I’m a dog and you’re just a cat” thing goin on, like a cat is “just” anything! So I’d ask him “so why is it I’m free and you’re on that stupid chain if you’re so important wise guy” and he’d say “cuz I’m so freaking powerful if they let me loose I’d not only eat you, but all the cats from here to Biscayne Bay! And then I’d tip over and chew through every garbage can I spotted on the way home, if I even came home! You? You go cryin to momma every morning ‘let me in let me in purrpurr’… it’s disgusting. Me? I’d be struttin my stuff baby, out on the town, showin all the chicks how big dogs are the best, that size really does matter, and how I’m so flexible I can lick my penis standing up!”

Yea, that would really piss me off. He never understood my mom is a nice lady and feeds me the best food money can buy, though she’d be cooler if she got off that pick me up all the time shit. But with Morton, just because his kid kicked him in his butt constantly and made him shag dirty sticks, he thought he was special; like putting up with abuse made him a better pet, a sturdier animal, a more worthy best friend.

Well you know, we all know that’s a load of crap. I’d say “you’re nothing special because you can take punishment, you’re special because we’re all special, we animals have the best of all worlds if we can make it work to our advantage.” And he’d say “cats think too much. Just gimme a bone with a little gristle on it and a mailman to bark at and I’m good for the day. You guys? You’re always pondering some crap. You sit there and look into the sky and you’re thinking ‘why is the sky blue’ like anyone else would give a shit but a cat.”

And I’d get so mad! I just wanted to be friends, it’s lonely out here! It’s not like chasing cars and scaring the crap out of people by jumping out from behind a bush isn’t fun, but without another pet to talk to, you know, about the important things in life… well, it’s all kind of meaningless isn’t it? But Morton wouldn’t have anything to do with it, he wouldn’t even listen to my proposals, he just barked at me like he didn’t like me and I knew he just didn’t understand me but he was so pigheaded I just couldn’t get through to him. Dogs. Bah!

I need to learn to control my anger better, I need to find some inanimate things to take my angst out on; like garbage can lids or milk bottles or maybe I could learn to chew bike tires like lizards do. I could torture the mice I catch I suppose, but mom taught me to never play with my food cuz if I did I might get to know them and then I’d be screwed cuz mice are really likeable if you just give em a chance.

But I’ve gotta do something so I stop ruining my life with these horribly vicious acts. I can’t imagine what got into me, sure he was a jerk sometimes but I’d thought I was making progress… until today.

He crapped in my food dish! What, you expect me to just ignore it? It’s the stupid kid’s fault really, he’s the one that ran off with his friends before he’d chained the dog properly. But the look on Morton’s face just slayed me; the way he just sauntered over, waggin his tail, dripping drool all over the sidewalk…and then the mutt just squatted over my dish and… I don’t even want to remember, it still makes my dander curl.

Yea, so I chased him and he ran like a little baby until he saw some neighbor dogs and decided to uphold his honor so he wasn’t shamed by the Third Street Canine Gossip Clique. But he didn’t realize he’d turned into a putz, sittin in that back yard on a three foot tether… hell, he could hardly stand up without wheezing much less fight a vastly superior, well muscled feline like myself.  So I kicked his little white dog ass right in front of the homeys and he got so mad he chased me. Down the sidewalk to the big blue house, then across the train tracks and up along First Avenue where the big, lunky cars are always whizzing by.

Ok, so I was a little scared; I’d never seen Morton having such a hissy fit, his lips were like blue ya know? He was barking so loud and snapping his teeth together so hard, I think he was about to pass out from over exertion! Yes yes, I admit it, I was scared as hell, so I ran between two cars knowing the moron would follow me.

I’m sorry Morton, when I got up this morning I wasn’t thinking “I know, lets kill a dog today! Let’s piss the next door neighbor off and then get him to chase me through a traffic jam until some slow reacting human slug runs over his head with an SUV.” In fact I was probably thinking, “maybe today’s the day I can make pals with Morton! Geez wouldn’t that be so great? Can you imagine what the pictures would look like with me sittin in between his paws and him lickin my head like I was an ice cream cone? We’d be just the cutest couple of buddies as there ever were!”

But all that’s pointless now Mort, you screwed up. If you hated me so much you could have just told me you know. Didn’t your mom ever teach you to never, never poop on a cat’s food? Don’t puppies get any integration training at all?

Dammit, this sucks. I can get more food, but I can’t unsquash Morton’s head. I’m really sorry it came to this pal, I thought we were turning the corner. Now… I miss you already.

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