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Monday, November 30, 2009

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof


This blog is dedicated to our most dedicated reader, my Aunt Alda. Thanks for reading all the self-centered excretum on this site! I don't know if that I have mentioned this before, but Elizabeth, our cat, is named after three great Elizabeth cat lovers. The first, and greatest, my grandmother who, at one stage, had a smallholding full of them. Then, the same Aunt which I have mentioned here. In her initials, the "E" in "AEJ Kruse" stands for Elizabeth, and she taught me everything I know about cats. The third is my dear sister who I miss dreadfully, and whose names no longer include Elizabeth, but whose shortened "Ilze" contains only letters from that name. So, To all Elizabeths: You have a noble name!

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One good day that turned out not to be so good, our little cat made up her mind to go in heat. Which she promptly and suddenly did. She stood, shaking her booty provocatively in the air, uttering an arresting mee-meaaaaaaaauuuuuu. Her personality also underwent a drastic and shocking transformation. All that her mind was focused on was getting some nooky. She would not eat, would not sleep, play, get angry even. She was possessed by the demon of lust and committed that deadly sin with such ardour that it was almost infectious. I will not go into too much details, but it was as if there was lust in the air, emanating from her bottom. The dogs felt its effects and so did we...

I have been through this once before when my sometime cat, Saffron, went through the same demonic possession. Luckily, at that time, my mother and I were in a financial situation to get her trimmed almost immediately, so that it was not such a big issue. But I remembered the sound and sight of a queen in heat, and it was not pleasant.

Back in the present, I made an appointment at the SPCA to get the necessary done, hoping I could borrow some money from a relative. At R450 I would be forced to; it was the middle of the month and the end of the month was what felt like eons away. They could only help the following Thursday, but I was forced to take the appointment since the vets I called charged about four times that.

Well, I suppose I should have seen it coming, but because of our criminal record, said relative was unwilling, to say the least, to help us out. I had to cancel the appointment since there was no way I could part with R450 so far from the end of the month.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth (never more true to her regal name) was burning with passion more and more alarmingly. She had no end; we had taken to locking her in the bathroom at night, with water in the basin and her sand box (to Alfred's great elation). On the floor, for her comfort, a great, fluffy blanket (the death-shroud of my cat-loving grandmother). And still, we could hear her calling the world's toms, never sleeping.

"Baby did a bad bad thing" by Chris Isaak is playing on iTunes and it is the perfect accompaniment to what you will read next. The One had found an article on the Internet describing in great and amusing detail (link here) on how to pleasure your cat with with a q-tip or earbud, in order to exorcise the demon. Which The One was too squeamish to do, but which disturbing chore I tackled head-on in true Aries fashion. I will never give details, but, during the act, our little cat's voice changed into that of a wild and desperate lioness. It was the voice of the demon, and it was terrifying.

I feel that I have to say there was no passion, it was all mechanic.

The sex therapy can be recommended if you are ever stuck with no money and a queen in heat. It is absolutely immoral, but then, have you ever been around a queen in heat? It would break the greatest, most noble, and force them to do the unthinkable. Besides, I found out long ago that I have no morals, I just seem to have customs.

Please continue to pray to your god of choice that we will be spared a repeat of this harrowing ordeal, until such time as enough funds are available to trim Elizabeth.

Written by I, of course

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