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Thursday, May 27, 2010

When A Cat Leaves You A Present, Decline

As I expected it would, yesterday’s post about Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) caught not only her eye but the eye of our little self-grooming hot-water bottle of a cat, Dolly Gee Squeakers (formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers).

Dolly Gee, aka, Here Kitty Kitty, aka Holy Crap Grab the Door Here Comes the Cat! came to us via the Humane Society. She is what appears to be a long-haired Siamese of some sort, a beautiful animal with stunningly crossed eyes.

“We think she’s about a year old,” said the woman at the Humane Society. “Of course, her eyes are a bit crossed, and she can’t seem to jump beyond, well, beyond standing on all four feet. And she does appear to have some sort of periodontal disease…” The woman paused. “She was dropped off in our night deposit box just two days ago, you know.”

As an aside, did you know you could do that? Drop an animal off via a night deposit box?

And four teeth? Well, what’s a little gingivitis amongst us beauties, eh? Perhaps she’ll grow some new ones. What do I know?

At any rate, she was just too beautiful, we thought, too friendly, too perfectly suited, size-wise. She’ll be a lovely companion to Ms. Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys).

And that was our theory.

In reality the two detected deep flaws in each other immediately. Words were exchanged, claws exposed. Dolly lobbed the first insult, derisively labeling Liza Bean an “indoor feeeee-line”. Liza Bean retorted by describing Dolly in such detail and with such vehemence that all I can recall are the words “polyester-pantsuited alley roamer”.

Liza Bean responded to the new arrival by perching herself atop Willie’s head for the next six weeks.

Dolly Gee responded by eating enough to triple her size in half that time.

How she managed to do that with four teeth, I have no idea.

And now, of course, Dolly Gee has seen yesterday’s post, knows that Liza Bean and I went out for a couple of drinks.

Look. I’d have taken her, but if you think Liza Bean can’t hold her liquor, you should see Dolly. Dolly’s got the morals of, well, a cat; and after a couple beers she’s up on tables, dancing suggestively, eventually disappearing with some Tom only to re-appear in the morning, looking sheepish and then drinking all the Fresca in the house as she nurses her hangover.

It’s embarrassing.

Liza Bean is furious with me.

“Running out of material?” she purred viciously. “Needing to write about lunch with friends now, are you?” She narrowed her bright green eyes at me. “Do you know what I deal with, every day, while you’re out, doing God knows what…”

“I hardly think that going to work constitutes God knows –“

Liza Bean was not to be dissuaded. “It’s horrible. Horrible. She sits there in those Daisy Duke shorts, humming entire Disney soundtracks – do you know she uses your eyeliner? Well she does. I have other places to go, you know. I don’t have to stay here.”

She lit a Virginia Slims – in the house! – and exhaled toward the window.

I promised her I would take care of it, that I’d find a discreet way to talk to Dolly Gee Squeakers (of the Humane Society Squeakers) about the sanctity of a peaceful home life.

“Well see that you do,” Liza Bean demurred.

There was a brief pause.

“Frankly,” she said – and is that contriteness I hear in her voice? – “I didn’t think this conversation would go as well as it has. Hmm.” She paused, seemed to visibly run several thoughts through her head before dismissing them all.

She shrugged, took a drag off her cigarette. “You might want to check the inside of your shoes before you go running out the door tonight.” She blew a smoke ring toward the window.

I cocked my head at her in anticipation.

She shrugged again, stubbing her cigarette out. “I left a little something in one of them for you.”

“Not the new ones!”

She closed her eyes, dismissing me. “The same.”

And Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) fell asleep.


MJenks said...

Great. This is what I'm getting myself into, adopting cats, isn't it?

L said...

Love the story and the cats. I am a fan of Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) she is pleasantly presumptuous.

Pearl said...

Mjenks, I feel I may owe you a beer. Maybe two, actually, as last night had me thinking once more about cats. Well, the downstairs cat. My brain seems to be seeking and finding pattern these days.

L, I'm glad to hear it! Liza Bean sends her best, of course, and thinks the next time you stop by you should bring a can of tuna with you. :-) But that's Liza all over, isn't it? Of course, once she has it, she'll probably just dismiss it, but she'll remember. Oh, she'll remember...

Anonymous said...

I'll bet I can guess what was in your shoe....a secret note (folded into some clever oragami shape) with the words,

'If you REALLY love me...you'll bring home the good shrimp tonight.'

And...'Brush Dolly backwards, because she hates that. Act like it was an accident....I'll vouch for you.'

WrathofDawn said...

I had the very same thing happen in my house when Riley T. Wondercat (of the St. John's Wondercats, late of Dublin) met Tigger Harumph (of the Fort McMurray Harumphs). Instant hatred on both sides. Insults were hurled and Riley went into seclusion under the armchair. For the better part of six months. Which would have been understandable, had they been a physical match for each other, but Riley is 15 lbs of big, ol' Tomcat and Tigger was about 4 lbs. tops dripping wet. They lived together for 18 months without either extending the paw of friendship, although a rather shaky detente did develop eventually.

Luckily, we had Pepper "Achoo!" Harumph (also of the Fort McMurray Harumphs) to act as interpreter, diplomat and go-between to ease some of the pain.

Roshni Mitra Chintalapati said...

this so sounded like a West-side story! I was holding my breath till the end and Liza did not fail to ..umm..deliver!!!

Douglas said...

Liza Bean seems to have that vengeful instinct my youngest, and final, cat had. Carlos (named after his idol, Carlos the Jackal) would leave "gifts" each time we left him alone for more than a few hours. In the middle of the living rug, on the sofa, on the bed... Of course, he also did not use the litter box for all his "business" even on "good" days but preferred the area next to it. "Close enough," he once told me, "for the likes of you."

furiousBall said...

Liza Bean does she have a blog, if so I want to get all up in that shit.

Cal's Canadian Cave of Coolness said...

Why do I picture Liza Bean as some old stage cat with a husky voice from too much smoke and too much time spent in the company of unsavory aquaintances? A bingo daubber in one hand and a lucky troll doll in the other.

Ms Sparrow said...

What is the feline equivalent of "bitch"? I mean REALLY! In your shoes??

Madame DeFarge said...

I feel a rerun of Single White Female coming on. She's a mean cat.

@eloh said...

Our problem is poo poo. Eugene the 16 pound cat can not abide a clean litter box. He stands on his back legs and pulls it to the floor when a clean one is being put down. This brings such shame on the four pound dog... his litter always has a bit of kitty in it.

injaynesworld said...

Liza Bean! You did what?!

Fragrant Liar said...

HAHAHA! That was delightful. I love Mizz Liza Bean's attitude.

De Campo said...

And I thought my plants were bad....

Argent said...

At least Liza Bean warned you first - a sign of regard of some sort, perhaps.

The Jules said...

A present? In your shoe?

Ooh, was it a bracelet?

Anonymous said...

One of our kittehs got INSIDE my daughters designer purse and left her a liquid surprise. ALL OVER EVERYTHING. She called me at work and told me I was going to have one less cat when I got home. To make amends the same one, LaLa, promptly went into said daughter's bathroom and left her a more solid gift on her favorite jeans that she left on the floor. That'll learn her!

AMIT said...

Interesting post.

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