“Man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much—the wheel, New York, wars and so on—while all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man—for precisely the same reasons” -Douglas Adams
The moment I woke up I knew something was terribly wrong. Clearing out the previous
nights beer bottles I realized what it was. The darned Cat was quiet.
My ex, who thought a Cat was what I needed to bring more sensitivity and morality in my life, gifted the cat to me. The moment I named it Pussy, she walked out, and didn’t take the Cat back too. That is how I lost my girlfriend and got a Pussy.
Pussy doesn’t have much work. It just craps all day long at the most inaccessible areas of my pad. And believe me I don’t find Pussy any fun. The Pussy has a way of meddling when I’m at my blissful self. She doesn’t give me a moment of peace when I crave for peace. She is doggedly sorry cattedly asleep when I need company. Basically I just hated Pussy, and only way out was when Pussy dies or I find a new girlfriend I can gift Pussy to.
Pussy drinks beer. Pussy breaks beer bottles. Pussy loves passive smoking. Didn’t want to waste an actual fag on her, else I’m dead sure she would’ve started smoking also. Sometimes I think the Pussy can understand human speech. She always pricks her ear when I’m ordering cheese burst pizza with extra cheese. She gives me a condescending look when my parents call me and I start blatant lying. And any mention of rat/mice/mouse/louse and she goes absolutely berserk. That’s when she removes any lady-like inhibitions she might have and starts sniffing, running in circles, purring etc, and sometimes everything at once.
The house was pretty clean. All around me was beer bottles, beer bottles and wait more beer bottle. Thanks to Pussy, the floor was clean. The beer on the floor was licked dry and clean. Absolutely no food leftover to be seen anywhere.
I opened the laptop. Connected to the office network and started brushing while going through the daily junk mails about issues, bugs, escalations and cat videos. That’s when
I realized I couldn’t find my Mouse. I hate using Touchpad; it gives me jeepers and creepers. You know the feeling when somebody scratches a fingernail on a smooth surface or when the chalk makes a noise against the blackboard. It revolts me. It sends a shiver of revulsion through my spines. Ugh…
I started the great search for the Mouse. History will term it as single-most important event in the events leading to one of the few eventful days in my otherwise uneventful life. I checked my bag, my cot, my shoes, shoe-rack, kitchen cabinet, fridge, DVD rack, newspaper rack, beer bottles, trashcan, my underwear laundary basket and finally I realized why the darn cat was quiet for so much time.
Well my dear Readers. The unspeakable had happened. The Pussy had finally realized I’d a mouse captive on my self. And my mouse had found a final resting place somewhere inside the Cat.
That’s when my phone started ringing. It was my Lead.
Lead: Hi ******
Me: Hi Lead
Lead: Why are you not in the office yet?
Me: I’m working from home Lead.
Lead: But you didn’t inform me. And you are not even online by this time.
Lead: Why aren’t you online by now?
Me: Oh, my cat swallowed my Mouse.
Me: Serious, I don’t know what to do.
Lead: I don’t care. Be online soon.
Pussy wasn’t dead. And she hadn’t crapped either. And there was a USB connector
coming out of her mouth. USB connected Pussy. Now that was the next greatest
invention. For the future paranoid androids.
Me: Pussy, why don’t you puke?
Pussy: No response.
Me: Come on, after all that beer, you couldn’t really keep the mouse in you know?
Pussy: No response.
Me: Pussy, I’m getting pissed. Will you or won’t you puke.
Pussy: No response.
That’s what I told you. The pussy can really understand when she wants to and when I don’t want her to. But when I need shes just another dumb animal.
I tried pulling at the USB. It was stuck hard. I gave a mighty pull. Pussy looked alarmed. But still she kept mum. I was dead pissed by then. I pulled harder. The pussy retracted her claws. I was in for some pussy-fight today. Well, I put on my helmet and my leather jacket and pulled harder. Pussy had started mouthing noiseless obscenities at me. I couldn’t hear it, but I could feel it. I put Pussy on the floor and put my leg on her neck and stood up and gave a mighty tug on the USB.
Her throat ripped open. Blood started gushing out. I could finally make out the mouse in my hand. Covered in her blood and intestines and lots of other gooey and icky stuff which I can’t describe for the want of the biological terms. The only cool biological term I know is Medula Oblangata. And I don’t think a Cat has it.
So I killed the cat. The Pussy died. May she rest in heaven. Or wherever the cats go when they die. She could even take a rebirth and come back in the form on Human. Maybe then
I’ll be her cat. Shit.
I connected my mouse and immediately went online. M
ouse is working. Couldn’t find my lead though. The bitch was offline.
Then I realized the the gargantuan sacrifice Pussy had done. The Cat eats a Mouse. That’s the natural order of things. And she died proving that. She realized her ultimate ambition. She stood for what she believed in and only the death could defeat her. She deemed it better to give away her life than to let go something precious.
don’t think she died a futile death. She died believing in what she did. I guess that’s what all the great sacrifices are all about.
Pussy thought it better to die than to admit her mistake. She imagined her pride more
important than her life. I’m sure she would be compared to the likes of the great Heroes,
who laid down their life for their beliefs…. Hats off to Pussy!!!
Squirrel, I think