Kitty Cat Rivalry

My humble home has been invaded. The fit has hit the fucking shan here people! The hammer has fallen; Charlie is in the wire; there are bogies locked on my position; whatever - the sanctity of my personal sanctuary has been besmirched and befouled by a rogue neighborhood feline.

That’s right, folks! I’m under attack from a gray and white furry four-legged harpy from parts whence unknown. What started out as an innocent midnight rendezvous and casual nose-rubbing between a neighborhood cat and my own indoor fuzzy four-legged harpy, between window panes, has since escalated into a fierce rivalry akin to that between the Capulets and the Montagues

I was always fine with this innocent visits. Considering that my guy is a strict indoor cat (largely due to the fact that being neutered means he has all the survival instincts of a cotton ball), I didn’t mind these casual encounters. It was about the closest thing he was ever going to get to actually doing the nasty in this lifetime anyhow.

But now this visiting cat has taken to physically sharing his love, or his frustration, or whatever the fuck it is that he sprays everywhere outside lately. It’s bad enough that this neighborhood cat has gone all ‘Fatal Attraction’ on my poor home alone pussycat, but tonight he made a crucial mistake: he pissed on my barbecue.

This, of course, means war. Whatever their relationship was in the past; the battle lines have been clearly drawn.

With a steaming stream of nasty-ass mixture, this furry fucker just sealed his own fate. I was willing to let things ride. The fact that he dropped the odd Tootsie Roll in my garden or sometimes left muddy prints across on my patio table, I was okay with letting bygones be bygones - animals with be animals after all. The fact that he was maintaining, completely unbeknownst to him, a gay fling with another male was enough to keep me secretly humored with the situation.

But, NOOOOOOOOOOO, he just had to take things one-step further! Now he has to die.

Whether it be man or beast, NEVER fuck with another man’s barbeque! You may as well as rape my grandmother and shit in my lunch thermos while you’re at it. The barbeque is sacred. I’m sure it was written in Geneva Convention somewhere.

“In times of war, desperation, and neighboring cats, a barbeque, or other means of outdoor cooking, is to be considered immune to all aggressive action.”

I’m going to rewrite the book and finally invent the one hundred and second possible thing to do with a dead cat. The fur is going to fly my friends!

The battle lines have been drawn.

“Prepare the troops for war!”