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Can somebody please shut that cat the hell up?

original print date, April 27 2004

     
                  Paul Ryan

It won't stop. It's been going on for hours. It's driving me crazy. For the past two hours, I've heard nothing but "Meooooow. Meooooow. Meoooow!!!" I've walked up and down the hall of my apartment building, but it's difficult to decipher exactly which apartment it's coming from.

But I swear to God, if somebody doesn't shut that cat the hell up, I'm going to slip little squares of cardboard with rat poison on them underneath every apartment door in this building. Then everyone's cat will be dead, and there will be a big pile of dead cats in the dumpster tomorrow morning after people throw them out, and the garbage collector will freak out because there will be dozens of creepy little cat eyes staring up at him from the dumpster, and he won't pick up the garbage, and when the next heat wave hits the entire block will smell like dead rotting cats.

Seriously though, I think someone's raping their cat. This isn't even funny. The goddamn thing won't shut up. How am I going to sleep tonight with that furry little piece of crap meowing every two seconds? It never stops. Doesn't it get tired of meowing? Doesn't its voice get hoarse after a while? Is this some Super PussyTM that never tires? Eh, probably not. It sounds more like someone's sticking something up its pooper.

Either that, or one of the old ladies on my floor died and fell on her cat. Actually, I doubt that's true. The cat would probably wouldn't be meowing then, because it'd be too busy eating the dead old lady's face.

That's why I like dogs. They won't eat your face when you're dead, they'll just whine a lot and poop in the closet every few days. Dogs always poop in the closet when you don't let them outside, because if it's in the closet they know you won't find it for days. Dogs are freakin' awesome.

But let's get back to talking about The Cat That Won't Shut The Hell UpTM. It's still meowing, and if I knew how to pick locks, that damn cat would be in a burlap sack right now, and I'd be driving with it towards the bridge that goes over the Mississippi River.

Hold on! Update: I went into the hallway, because the meowing was loud again, and I saw the cat. The meowing was coming from a door down the hall, and when I listened near the door, the kitty slid its little paws under the door like it was trying to open the door from the inside or something. Since it was just a kitty, I put away the poison and decided to slide food under the door.

But what do kitties eat? I didn't have any cat food, so I slid a Ritz cracker under the door. The kitty mistook my generosity for an attack, and tried to claw me. Stupid goddamn cat. I tried pushing a few little bits of american cheese under the door, but the dumb cat didn't eat that, either. A dog totally would have eaten both of those.

I took some pictures of my adventures with the cat:

Here's the cat scouting me out from underneath the door, plotting to kill me when I got near enough.

Here's the cat after I taunted it for ten minutes by making meowing sounds.

Here's the cat after I slid the Ritz cracker under the door. The cat got pissed, and tried to kill me for many minutes after the Ritz cracker incident. It also did not return the cracker to me, which is just plain rude.

After the cat refused the cheese (who can refuse cheese? It's delicious! Stupid freakin' cat), I gave up and went back to my apartment. When I sat down and started writing this column, a thought came to my mind. What will the cat's owners think when they come back and find a Ritz cracker and cheese under their door?

                           

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