There is a website I sometimes visit.
It is very silly. Some may not think so, but I do. Not only is it silly it also is my kind of silliness.
Ladies and Gentlemen: I present to you Pollock_lechat.
This is a great site (almost as good as this one). It is of a French cat that lives in Paris. When my partner and I were in Paris last year, I believe the kitty was on the same street (sorry le street) as we were on. Or very close to it.
This blog tells of Pollock’s adventures. I can’t read French, so I look at the pictures. He does fuck all. Typical Frenchy.
All he does is sit in the window and look at people. Sometimes there are photos of home playing around. Whoopee.
He is good though. Poor little bastard. I bet he’s never been running around in the grass as my cats used to do.
Our family has had a number of cats. One was called Nicky, and he was a street fighter. He had big testicles (literally) and died through an infection he got after punching on with the other local street tough cats.
Another was Honey. My sister named him, and yes, he has a he. At least until he had his scrotum removed. I was going to school one day (probably around 1987) and say Honey on the street laying down. I yelled to him, as he was a pretty cool cat, to get off the street. He didn’t. I went up and there was a little bit of blood coming out of his mouth. He was dead. I think he was hit by a car. We buried him in the backyard, near the BBQ, this was where Nicky also went.
The last cat we had was called Stinky. Mum used to call her Missy, but she was Stinky to us. She was an abused kitten that my bleeding heart sister took pity on, and then dumped at Mum and Dad’s place when she moved out. She was covered in these scabs, was small and eventually got cancer of the mouth, so she looked like she was constantly smiling. She was also known as Stinky the Smiling Cat.
My mated used to kid nap her and take her for rider in their cars. One time, my brother and I tried to see how much mince meat she would eat. We stopped at half a kilogram. She was keen on more.
One time I was coming home from school (circa 1988) and there was a big turd on the bricks that run around the veranda of Mum and Dad’s place. I could see it from the footpath, and I said “how did a dog get up there and have a shit?’.
I went to investigate. And it was about a foot long. It was a FUCKING HAIRBALL! Dad had to get the hose onto it just to move it. It was feral.
Eventually the vomiting up of massive hairballs had it toll on Stinky. Her stomach dropped, and like one of those sausage dogs when they get old, started to scrape along the ground.
Secret: none of us (Dad and I) really liked Stinky.
Dad decided to take Stinky to the Vet. He was shitty at having to spend money on her. Actually, Dad would have been shitty about having to spend money. So he takes Stinky to the Vet. The Vet says that she is just about fucked (not a direct quote).
Vet asks Dad if the cat is a family pet. Dad says yes. Vet asks if Dad wants Stinky to be given a shot that will allow her to die at home, with the family.
Dad says no, and that it would be OK for Stinky to pass away at the Vet, as it would ‘cause the kids too much distress’.
I think it is now time to revisit the paragraph above title ‘Secret’.
Anyway, Stinky passed away in a Vet. I don’t think she minded as she was close to fucked, and couldn’t walk or eat. I’m sure she’s in a better place, at least at our place in the late 80s she got all the food she wanted and the occasional treat. The dogs didn’t hassle her too much.
Anyway (twice in one blog post - excellent grammar), the reason for this reminiscing is that Pollock looks like Stinky. I hope that Pollock doesn’t hock up a foot long hairball like Stinky did, or leave traces of manure on the carpet, or sneeze in your face, or wee on the carpet, or scratch the carpet, or sleep all day and also all night.
We never had another cat after Stinky. I think Dad got fed up with them. We had a dog for a while, Jessie, she was great. But like us all, she got old and had to be put down on the advice of a German trauma doctor who used to live across the road from my parent’s place.
The world is a strange place.
