Why Is There a Cactus in My Shoe?

The thing about having cats is that you never know what you will find when you wake up in the morning. I've heard horror stories about half-eaten mice or half-dead birds chirping to their deaths showing up in the most unlikely places. Shoes, for example. The thought of pushing my toes into some mushy, bony, bloody mess has haunted me ever since I became a pussy lover.

So far, the pussies have been kind to me. The worst I ever found was an assortment of hairballs of various shapes and sizes (curiously, they were never the shape of a ball) and vomit of the previous night's $0.35 turkey delight with gravy.

Cats are carnivores. They eat meat. Chicken, fish, mice, cows, dragons, unicorns and assorted moving objects that bleed, such as wiggly toes. The only cats that don't hunt are the morbidly obese. Like the 45-pounder on TV the other day -- the only way that cat could move on its own is by rolling down a hill, but even then, it may only go for two seconds before its tummy stops the motion with a thunk.

So explain it to me why my cats expect a salad once in a while? And not just any salad. No. They want the best. Valentine roses are their favorite, better than chocolate. Better than sex, which by the way they have never experienced (to my best knowledge). So that's the most curious thing. Cats are actually better than little children -- they voluntarily eat their vegetables.

That's fine. Plants are cheap and they grow back, like the hair on my palms.

But it's one thing to wake up one morning, slip on the slippers and feel a wet clump of furry mush at the tips of my toes. It's another to scream bloody murder when my toes turn into tiny pincushions. Those little pricks! Somewhere in a dark corner, a pair of shiny eyes are gazing at me with the utmost affection, thinking that the prickly sensation on her sandpaper tongue must be equally welcome by the large, bumbling nitwit who wakes up three hours too late to bring her the daily sacrificial offering in a tin container. And like magic, the large, bumbling nitwit begins to dance like a wild turkey, a hand holding one foot, then stumbles and knocks down the lamp and falls face down near her just-used toilet. Then slowly she walks toward me, her face that of an angel, and grazes her bushy tail and the associated butthole against my face. She loves me. She really loves me.

After I pull the thistles off my toes, I feed the cats like a devoted mother who asks not what her children can do for her, but what she can do for the children.

The day goes on like nothing ever happened. Life goes on. Toes will heal. And you know damn well the furballs will do it again. Just never know when.

Next time, please, let it be a mouse.


Anonymous said…
I am looking forward to meeting you in Cincinnati tonight at BN.

Now back to my manuscript.

Billie Chai
Ray Wong said…
great meeting you, Billie! Wish you great success on your manuscript.
Seqkat said…
Yes, our carniverous kitties do like to graze. They eat grass and other plants to obtain folic acid.

I've been blessed with no treats IN my shoes ... usually I find treats in the most unsuspecting place my feet lead me. Hence, I wear shoes in the house - constantly! No mushy gushies between my toes! LOL!

In His Joy,
Seqkat >^..^<
Unique said…
Oh, Ray. I'm so proud.


Kathy said…
Hee hee. You said "pussy lover".

Unique told us to come by and say hi. Interesting blog entry about the cats. I thought you had guinea pigs. Hope your writing is going well.
Ray Wong said…
Hi kathy! :) Thanks for dropping by and miss ya.

Unique... yeah, keep those prompts coming.
Unique said…
This is a test. Had this been an actual emergency you would have been notified by
a Great Big Explosion in your backyard.
We return you to your regularly scheduled programing.
Ray Wong said…
Whew, I'm glad we're back to my favorite people, desperate housewives. Ugh, I mean, TV show... Eh, not really.
Jen said…
Hee! I can relate about the cats. And am now wishing I had room for one. The cat, yes. The litterbox and other associated items, no.
Ray Wong said…
put the litter box next to your toilet, and you're all set. LOL
Jen said…
Our bathroom is about the size of a postage stamp. No room for that. :( I've done that in the past. Not pleasant if you've gotta go right after the cat did. lol
Ray Wong said…
Cats can go outdoors, too. Personally, I don't like the thought of having mine roam around the neighborhood, getting into fights or running risks of getting hurt or killed, but I know many people who let their cats live outside.
Anonymous said…
From one cat lover to another, thanks for the belly laughs!
Ray Wong said…
Those little fuzzballs do give us a lot of laughs.

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