I was awakened from a self-medicated, drug-induced coma this morning, only to find out that the family cat soiled one of my son's play toys, for the second time this week. Apparently, I missed the part in Biology 113 where we learned that kitty cats don't like baby roughfishers. Must have been from another one of those self-inflicted drug comas, a common occurrence in college dormitories.
Likely suffering from the same malady that's hampered the blogging efforts of singlebarbed, I doped up this morning with a concoction of histamine blockers, Vitamin B12, acetaminophen, and a stout mug of coffee. I was asleep on the couch within the hour. Funny how this combination had a stronger drowsiness effect than the brandy and Benadryl cocktail I formulated last night. I was aroused from my stupor by Mrs. Roughfisher, scolding the cat for its misdeed. All was not good. The kid's toy was trashed, an expensive rug was ruined and in the dumpster, and the cat was literally hiding for its life. This was the fourth time this has happened in the house, and the first accident that has seen casualties. Hopefully the wooden floorboards that were under the soiled rug are not ruined.
I know some of you out there might say, "what's the big deal, it's just a f-cking cat"? I also know there are quite a few dog people out there as well. Well, nobody likes losing a family pet. We've had the cat since before my wife and I were even married; older than my kids. I don't think my 4 year old quite understood yet, what I meant when daddy told her that the kitty is going bye-bye forever. She playfully closed the door to the pet carrier, trapping the kitty inside, unknowing that this would be her last goodbye.
Selfishly, I brushed the kitty one last time before bidding adieu, collecting her fur. She was for the most part a good cat, and her fur produced some wonderfully fine dubbing. I hate having to put down a perfectly healthy animal, though my outlaws just suffered a similar fate with their house cat. The only difference was they had to rip up all of their carpet and replace the floorboards in half of the house. Thankfully he's a carpenter, but both of us realize that it is almost impossible to break the habit of a urinating cat. The cat was already give a second chance, when we picked her up at the pound almost 6 years ago. It's too bad it had to end this way.
Sorry Belle. The first fly I'll fish next season, will be in your honor. Your fur always did make for some nice ties.
- the roughfisher