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Published on May 21st, 2014 | by Richard Black

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Please Spay and Neuter Your Dog, Cat or Possum and Let Me Get Some Fucking Sleep

A few nights ago I was out for my evening constitutional (that’s a walk for those of you unfamiliar with 19th century parlance) and I heard the most…unnerving sound I’ve heard in some time.

Now I’m not unfamiliar with upsetting sounds. When she was an infant my daughter made noises like she was trying to pass a baby elephant through her colon. I’ve heard my father having sex with his wife on numerous occasions and even had the pleasure of hearing a goat get castrated. Come to think of it most of these things sound pretty much the same. but that’s another issue.

I’m even privy to strange sounds I don’t hear.

I know it sounds strange but let me explain. My wife Laura can mistake the sound of our freezer making ice cubes for the footsteps of a chainsaw wielding sex maniac breaking into our home, usually around two in the morning. Up until a few years ago I would patronize her and give the house a cursory go over before I realized that there’s nothing dumber than an unarmed  middle aged man ostensibly clearing the homestead with little more than a giant erection for defense.

Whilst on my walk (I’ve always wanted to use the word ‘whilst’ in a sentence) and upon hearing this most unusual noise, a shriek really, I began to move towards it’s source.  At first I thought that my daughter was crying, it sounded a bit like a small child wailing, but after I ducked my head inside and found Darcy passed out I continued down the block.

It was chilly outside and as I made my way towards the next street, hoping to nab some delinquent bastard who’d left his window open in 40 degree weather (and hoping just as fervently that I’d shut my daughter’s bedroom windows) I heard the eerie caterwaul again.

A few seconds later, on my right I saw some movement in a driveway and upon a closer look I found…a cat.  Actually there were many cats, four or five if memory serves all standing around the source of the noise, a female feline in heat and hoping for a good humping.

The other cats, presumably male, looked like a road repair crew standing around a particularly challenging pothole.

Unfortunately all the male cats had been neutered, unfortunate for me and unfortunate for all other parties involved. I watched the pussycat wail and the males as they the made tentative steps around their potential mate like a group of prepubescent boys would gather around a nymphomaniac who had just plummeted out of the sky.

The male cats all looked like they’d been given a sharp kick where their balls used to be when an enormous possum waddled through the rather sad gathering and looked like it might give the female a shot which is when I brought the whole sordid affair to an end. I don’t usually throw rocks at animals but I had to draw the line somewhere. I’m not a proponent of cross species sex, or really any sex at all when I’m not having some.

Of course I should also mention that I’m not a fan of cats.

When I was fourteen or so my stepbrothers convinced our parents to adopt a stray that had been hanging around our house for a few weeks. We let Oreo inside as well as a few thousand fleas all of whom promptly made our house their home for the duration of the summer. It was a joyful time in my life and one extended by the fact that my father was too cheap to have the house sprayed and insisted that the fleas would pass away once their “natural” host had been evicted.  And after four months of bites and little to no sleep he was right.

To say the least this experience did not engender a “warm fuzzy” in my heart for cats. If I can’t train it to shit outside then I don’t want it in my house. The most charitable thing I can say about cats is that the best one’s give you two thirds of the affection of a dog with one third of the effort which may be true but explains why most cat people I know live, and will most likely die, alone.

I regularly have dreams where I’m swinging a cat around my head. Not to check the width of the room per the old and rather confusing saying but just because I think it might be a good idea. I also end up throwing them at my mother every once in a while, in my dreams not in real life…yet.  If you Freudians ever figure that one out send me a message.


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