Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Saturday, 27 August 2016

Pieces Of ... Eight

When I was a kid on the farm Pop and his grandkids watched a lot of WWF wrestling. When the kids dragged in a stray cat Pop named him UW after their favourite wrestler - the so-called Ultimate Warrior. He had no tail so Pop figured he had lost it to coyotes or frost and that must make him one hard-ass tough cat! A knowledgeable neighbour politely informed Pop that the cat was actually born that way. The grandkids loved UW and he tolerated them but hated Pop and I. One day Pop was lounging in his chair as UW sauntered by and the old fart gave him a playful boot up the arse - and the cat opened him up for his troubles and made him BLEED. Pop was furious - he looked like he had stuck his foot in a Moulinex afterward. He griped and bitched about it but Mom had no sympathy for him and figured that if ya boot a cat - even in play - anything the cat does to you in return is fair play. It was ruled a justifiable homicide and Pop just fumed.

Later in the spring I had gone over to dig my motorcycle out of storage in Pop's shop. We had lunch and then headed out - Pop was going to do some garden work and I was gonna grab the bike and go. So the old fart steps up to his pride and joy - a big Case tractor with power everything - and spies a big pile of cat shit on the driver's seat. He turned beet red and then just sighed..."you got any guns here ya haven't taken home yet, Glen?" I laughed like a loon at Pop's plight - and then went over to grab my bike. And there, on the saddle - there was a big pile of cat shit there, too. UW had punked both of us. I could've sworn I had left a .22 round the farm for Pop... but then I did the same as he did - I just brushed the shit off onto the gravel floor of the shop, gave the seat a careless wipe with a shop rag and forgot about it.

When Mom and Pop sold the farm and moved into the city UW went with them. A couple months later he disappeared and we secretly hoped he had gotten run over by a steam roller. But it turned out that he had had enough of Mom and Pop and had gone to live with a little girl that lived in the house down the street and round the corner. The old bastard is prolly still there.

Pop made a point of keeping the garage door and the doors of his vehicles firmly shut - for theft prevention, dontchya know.

1 comment:

  1. Nice!

    My main lady once took in a stray, actually more of a rescue cat, and named it Maniac. The first potential adopter was a 'way too cute precocious five year old and her mother. The kid cornered Maniac under an end table and got what she deserved.

    The second adopter was an experienced cat lady who unceremoniously tucked Maniac under her arm and left, and that was that.