Or Pest Control?
Some people like cats. I don’t. But I don’t hate them either. I don’t like them because I won’t let myself like them. Though, they are actually great to have around and tend to do an excellent job at keeping the pests in check. Problem is that they tend to grow, grow on you to the point that it is hard not to get attached to them. That story is long buried in the past, under a tree, nestled in a blanket of good memories…
Speaking of pests... you know, the menacing kind that take shape in the form of little boys, the kind who get a thrill out of teasing animals? Yeah, that’s what this probably-never-happened story is about.
Not too long ago, maybe even yesterday (and perhaps even told this morning), a cat-owned bachelor was sitting in his pad, when he heard the lure of what he took for a boy’s voice trying to attract who the neighbor thought was his feline. Looking out through the screen door, our Southern-raised hero (hero of this tale) saw a suspicious brat leaning over with one arm stretched out and another behind his back. Behind the soon to become young man’s backside was an opened container of soft-drink, some kind of dark, liquid brand cola.
In a matter of moments, curiosity struck (but with a fair amount of mercy...this time). The cat was rained down upon by a sweet squall of carbonated blackness followed by high-pitched, almost juvenile, laughter.
Our single hero had witnessed something he really didn’t think was funny…at all. But, seeing how he had a sense of humor, he decided to roll with the theme, ride the wave.
Over yonder, there are such things called hurricanes. Over here, they are called typhoons. Either way, not too many people look forward to getting caught in the middle of one (though there are a few who flock to the resulting swells).
The sky was no longer clear and the sun was no longer shining. A dark cloud just bursting with irony was about to get the last thunderous laugh.
The now half-full pet bottle was going to give a little more. Though measured time would only be able to account for a matter of seconds and measured volume could easily be given in mere milliliters,
the length and magnitude of the downpour somehow managed to bridge the gap from boyhood to adolescence.
And there was a peaceful sense of calm after that storm. Yet, out on the horizon, there was a set approaching.
In what must have sounded like broken Japanese, the following exchange could have taken place, but only after the rest of the contents of the container were released upon the tormentor.
“This is interesting. Don’t you think?” said the curious foreigner.
Nothing but a stunned look from the boy.
“Isn’t this fun?” he continued in a stern, almost humorous, voice.
The boy straightened up, stood at attention, and gave a reply that more or less communicated that, “No, it isn’t fun. And yes…I got it…sir.”
If the subtitles of life had space for parenthesis, somewhere in there, the audience might have been able to find a 'thank you.'
Judging by the reaction…some would say so.
But while some would agree, others might ask:
What about the kid…what if he ran home and told Mommy and Daddy that some scary foreigner took his half-empty beverage and dumped it all over his head?
The smiling bachelor’s response may have been something like, “I would have hoped so. Because that child would have probably forgotten to tell his folks about where the other half went. All over the trusting little creature I am quite fond of thinking of as MY CAT.”
Summertime really must be the season for changes.