That’s Nora, a fluffy tub-o-lard that belongs to some friends. And that’s me. You’ll note my disdain.
I am not a cat person. I do not have them, I do not want them. Cats are for people who aren’t so great with other people. I am in the minority here, and that’s fine. That’s okay.
I make it no secret how much I detest cats. Perhaps this is my first claim to the ether, but those who know me know of my struggle against the neighborhood “yard-shitters” who constantly foul my lawn. Who spray the contents of my garage if I foolishly leave the door open. Cat owners who decide to have outdoor cats purposely—though not maliciously, just lazily—choose to make their cats the problem and responsibility of others.
In an effort to take such responsibility seriously, I recently bought a pellet gun. It looks like a real .45 pistol, though of course everyone knows that shooting a 6-mm plastic bead at 200 feet per second down the length of my back yard is nowhere near as accurate as a lead slug propelled by a small explosion. But I don’t want to be a gun owner almost as much as I don’t want to be a pet owner. Besides, they mostly come at night, mostly, so I’ve thus far hit zero cats with my toy gun.
I’ve considered camouflaging mouse traps near all the favored cat entrances to my yard. It’s easy to tell a favored cat entrance because it is so obviously a beaten path now. I imagine the deer are not far behind. So a few well-concealed traps could work wonders. I have dreamt of a yard paved with mouse traps, the lot of them snapping by the thousands at the first tentative step. To cover a cat in sprung mouse traps is to teach that cat a lesson.
Rat traps have crossed my mind, too. At the very least I might break a few legs. But then I’d just feel like a jerk, because inevitably someone in the neighborhood would hear the flailing ruckus and I’ll probably get sued. Over a cat.
A big bowl of anti-freeze might do it. Silent and deadly, like a submarine. And super easy to deny. Honest, officer, I was just wrenchin’ on m’ car, and I musta left it out.
Hey, if there was a free gizmo that allowed me to simply remove the defecation, urination, and mewing-on-my-porch-at-three-in-the-morning functions from cats, I’d be happy to have them in my yard. I’d even let them keep their claws. Failing that, I’ll take a free coyote trained to patrol my property line. That would certainly keep out those damn dogs, too.
But because I am in the minority, and because I don’t believe I should have to spend money on crystalized bear urine or motion-detecting sprinklers, I guess I’ll just curse those little bastards and their owners for their combined complete disregard of a man’s fiefdom. But if I step in one more pile…
So, there’s a kid now. A girl, Hazel.
