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Sunday, May 13, 2012

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

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 discovered that I had drinks with Liza Bean a couple nights ago.

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 purrs viciously. “Writing about me, making my life miserable when Dolly finds out?” 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 is 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 lights a Virginia Slims – in the house! – and exhales toward the window.

I promise her I will take care of it, that I’ll 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 demurs.

There is a brief pause.

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

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

I cock my head at her in anticipation.

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

“Not the new ones!”

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

And with that, Liza Bean Bitey, of the Minneapolis Biteys, falls asleep.


Come back tomorrow for a recounting of the evening with Liza Bean and the story she told me...

27 comments:

Unknown said...

Love Liza Bean Bitey! My kind if cat! : ) what is it with cats, they never seem ti get alone?! Always so much competition going on!

Raymond Alexander Kukkee said...

Lisa Bean Bitey, where did you find this wonderful Pearl character anyway? ":)

Raymond Alexander Kukkee said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Commander Zaius said...

LOL!!!!

Spock the Cat here at my house often reviews the stuff I am writing on my laptop. Lets just say I have yet to find him impressed with anything I do.

Joanne Noragon said...

Liza Bean does have some 'splaining to do. Hope you're not nicking any Virginia Slims from her.

Pearl said...

I suspect the kittehs are rarely impressed by ANYthing we do! :-)

Joanne, I must admit that I've picked up the habit again recently. Since moving out of the house I've been pretty nervous/anxious. It's a lousy time to be me!!

Pearl said...

p.s. Hannah, I have gone to your site several times and can't seem to leave a comment! Please know that I DO go to you, though!

Anonymous said...

The kittehs asked me to pass on Mothers Day Greetings to you and a request for tuna. (Check your shoes first) Thinking of you and holding good positive thoughts.

Unknown said...

Oh : ( how awfully un-social of blogger : (, I'll check it out, but comment window is usually there at the bottom of the post... Unless it took a break for day... ; )

Unknown said...

Apparently you need to scroll all to the bottom of all pics and then view comments... Then the window for comments should be there...at least thats what I see at my end...all very complicated due to specialty of dynamic views... Ah... Hx

Sioux Roslawski said...

A gift from a cat...the gift that keeps on giving...and giving (us shudders).

jenny_o said...

There's so much to love about this post.

You write Liza Bean's side of the conversation so well, could it be that she is one of your alter egos? :)

Happy Mother's Day, Pearl.

lisahgolden said...

I love the cat posts.

Mine big ginger left me a pile of poo at the bottom of the stairs. His idea of a Mothers' Day gift leaves much to be desired.

Peaceful Me (Quo) said...

I'm afraid of cats and so I thought there would be some kind of dead rodent picture involved, (of which I am equally afraid of), but no, just a very funny story! Thanks.

esbboston said...

I was going to complain about the apparently missing ")" but since its Mother's Day I decided to let you off easy.

Happy Mother's Day!!!

Happy Frog and I said...

Too funny Pearl, loved this! :)

vanilla said...

Tomorrow? Oh, yeah; just try to keep me away!

Notes From ABroad said...

Ahhh, the little gifts left by cats ... brings back fond memories of my mother screaming as she put on a slipper one morning ...

Lo said...

Pearl, darling.....I love your kitty posts.

Please reassure us that LB and DG have moved with you.......

I am wishing you better days every day. Wish I could do more.

Mike said...

My mother always hated animals but we talked her into having a cat anyway. I love cats!

Nice to see you! Wow, it's been a long time. And put that cigarette down! LOL

Lynn said...

Gotta love cats. :)

Saimi said...

We have the same sibling rivalry going on at our house, really for no apparent reason other than they're cats!

They make up their own rules of engagement.

Gigi said...

And THAT is why it's next to impossible to have three females living in the same house....(wait for it....) the "cat" fights.

Okay, even I'll admit that was bad. But great post, as usual!

Belle said...

Love this story! Very similar to my sister's two cats and their relationship.

HermanTurnip said...

Really? Virginia Slims? What does she think this is...the 80's?

Elephant's Child said...

Ignoring the fact that Jazz was an all male cat until he had the cruel snip, you are describing the armed warfare which is common in our home. No tricks are too underhand...

Anonymous said...

My cats just throw up on my pillow when I am asleep if they are upset with me. It isn't until I walk to the bathroom in the morning, look in the mirror, notice a white face mask, that I know I have done something wrong.