Liza Bean recently visited the vet.
You remember Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys), don’t you? Liza is the tiny-pawed, symmetrically striped and thoroughly adorable cat my mother insisted I take home.
“I don’t need a cat,” I had said.
“You don’t need a cat,” she corrected. “You need this cat.”
And dagnabit, the woman was right. Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) is one of those cats that make you wish you had one. Small for her age, clever with her paws, a snappy dresser, and a gifted ventriloquist, Liza Bean is a credit to her species.
But there’s a dark side to this endearing puddy tat.
While I have, in the past, suspected her of being a part of an international jewel theft ring – and also of being the one who keeps adding the words “the good shrimp” to the weekly grocery list – it wasn’t until I found the tattoo that I realized that there was still so much more to be discovered about Liza Bean Bitey.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
Liza Bean has taken it upon herself recently to relieve the fancy goldfish of some of their water. Sitting atop the tank, she would lift the lid and lap until I got up to remove her. Really, we should’ve put something heavy on the lid right away – as we have since – but Liza’s drinking problem eventually led to the development of some sort of skin issue, causing her to lose the hair on her chinny-chin-chin.
And that’s when I found the tattoo.
“What’s that?” I muttered aloud.
“What’s what?” said Willie.
“That,” I muttered, lifting the cat’s chin. “Look at the ceiling, Liza Bean.” And there, on her charmingly pointy chin, was the dark blue ink of a prison tattoo.
“Liza,” I said sternly. “Is there something you want to tell us?”
As usual, her command of the English language wanes in direct correlation with the potential for a distasteful outcome. Had I been asking her if she preferred salmon over the chicken Friskies dinner, she would have answered me immediately. As it was, she gazed at me blankly for a moment and then nonchalantly licked a front paw.
A cross between an ancient Roman coin and the tiniest Rand-McNally road map you’ve ever seen, Liza Bean coyly refused me access to the tattoo that began under her chin, ran down her throat, and trailed off into her coat.
The vet gave her a shot and a white cone to wear and the wily feline was careful to avoid me as her hair grew back.
She took a phone call last night in the bathroom, water running.
I pressed my ear against the door, of course, but I couldn’t make out a word of it.
I tell you: if she hooks up with those Russians again, she and I are going to have a long talk.
28 comments:
The vet done it?
The white cone of shame should be enough to staunch the desire for any further tats from her, although I wouldn't open the door to anyone with a Russian accent right now unless it's your nice Russian friend you've written of.
That cat has more secrets than any one cat should have.
She sounds suspiciously like the Southern California Biteys, who could be worse than the Russians. An arresting cool story, Pearl.
The Feline Brotherhood is not a force to be reckoned with. Liza Bean has some dark shadows in her past in my humble opinion. (Is that enough platitudes?) You may need to find a way to secure your motorcycle so she doesn't borrow it to ride across the rooftops in Istanbul.
Truly a cat of mystery....and few words when it suits her purpose.
She'll hook up with those Russians again, you can count on it. It's just a matter of time. Better write up your talking points now, while you can still think straight!
Hari Om
Cripes - she's not a dog in cat's clothing is she? Worse kind, those undercover agents.
I'd be checking for poison dew under those claws... #:|
I wish my life was as fascinating as that of Miss Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys)!!
Try as you will, I will not be converted to a cat person...DOGS RULE...but I do feel Lisa Bean tugging at me. She does try to wear you down dosen't she!
Well, at least it isn't a porpoise on her ankle...
I asked The Ungrateful Bastard and he told me both his mother and father were of the Minneapolis Biteys. They were never married which makes him a true bastard. In fact, his mother and father were brother and sister so he is also his own uncle...or something like that. In his typical fashion he ran away to kill something when I started asking too many questions.
Thanks for letting me know about the Minneapolis Biteys because now I can start working on his family tree. It will be more like a family circle, but still...
She's a wiley one that bears watching, that Liza Bean!
I hope she has been neutered...and I would keep a count on the gold fish. And look at her paws. If L-O-V-E is on one paw, you're in danger.
While she's disabled by the cone, sift through the gravel in the fish tank to retrieve the hidden diamonds. Where will you hide them before the Russians show up?
Keep your eye on the headlines -- you'll probably know what the phone call was about soon, one way or another. Just have your alibi solid, and the vet can give expert witness testimony that the cat's tat obviously predates her incumbency at your place based on hair growth, etc science etc.
Liza Bean Bite: snappy dresser, gifted ventriloquest,and ex-con.
But what are you going to do? You need that cat. Your Mom said so.
Oh how you are going to pay for putting Liza Bean in the cone of shame. But you know that already.
I can see it now. "The Kitteh Confessions"; an all new, gritty reality show about the secret lives of Cats on Animal Planet. The drama is real. No one is voted off. It's too real for that! Brought to you by Purina, the makers of cat food...
You are too funny...and such a great author. Thank you for sharing your talents with me.
Hugs,
J.
Uh oh. I think Liza Bean is keeping secrets from you!
Right then, Pearl, I deserve bonus points for commenting at gone three in the morning in lil' ol' England. Yes? No? Who am I? Whatever?
Your lovable cat was making a phone call to Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar! Liza Bean Bitey begged for Penny's autograph. Maybe next time Penny might consider it. In the meantime, Penny has to worry about the 'puparazzi' um hounding her!
See ya, Pearl.
Gary :)
I am so glad my cat Kala is not related to Liza. Kala is from the Cuddler line, descended from a French/Italian blend.
Been meaning to ask someone about those white cones. My doctor makes me wear a big one home but when I ask him he just giggles.
And Pearl, you had no suspicions beforehand? When you think about it, the signs were all there. Now to find out where this will all lead.
was it a map of North Korea?
I shudder to think what you might become entangled in, harboring that Cat.
Better than if she had a tramp stamp, probably; depends on how much Russian you speak.
(If worse comes to worse, just say, "Я не знаю, где алмазы. Хотели бы Вы некоторый борщ?")
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