A Brush With Death-The Brush Of Death

If any of you have exotic cats, or mixes that have exotic cat makeup, you know to tread lightly in your house so they do not grab hold of your face and suck the breath right out of your damn lungs.

Dogs have to learn this lesson in real time. When I hear a yelp from my Jack Russell, I know it is because the dog has finally crossed the line in annoying the half-Siamese too much. Jack Russells are whip-smart, but they must learn lessons the hard way no matter what lesson that is.

These lessons usually come in the form of “When I am busy, that is not a sign to you that I am playing.” The problem is that every time a dog gets excited, he always thinks it’s playtime.

There is also a boy cat in the house, who has not been neutered…yet. If he continues to take toxic whizzes in the box, I gotta get the nuts off him. This boy cat is another entity that doesn’t understand the meaning of “leave me alone”, perhaps because he does not know the girl cat’s heritage. It ain’t pretty and black for you, tomcat-exotics are very much in love with themselves. Men never know what’s on a woman’s mind, unless she talks, and then you have to figure out what she is really saying. An example:

Wife: I can’t sleep on this side of the bed. I must sleep on my side.
Idiot: Shall we trade?(I’m looking for the type of spooning that will eventually lead to sex)
Wife: OK. (We trade sides)
Idiot: Hey! I thought you liked sleeping on your right side! Now you are on my left, still turned away from me! What is wrong here?

What is wrong here is that the God-Damned Idiot does not understand the bedroom as a place for sleep. I don’t know how I unlearned how to use a bed, but something in me thinks that a bed is just as good as any place for getting my winkle whacked if I am irritating enough. This has sporadic success, because women are very bored with your need for winky whacking and are hoping it will end quickly. Men have been bothering her for a winky whack for most of her adult life, and this God-Damned Idiot she married is unfortunately just like the others.

Marriage is great if you like being confused and frightened at the same time.

Anyway, my wife managed to get my Siamese to accept scratchies. She even put her ears back in submission while she was in my wife’s arms.

I thought this would be a great time to brush the cat, now that it is calm.

You should be wearing Gortex for brushing the body of an exotic. My girl cat comes for butt scratchies to me, but that is the end of our relationship. I have scratched the queen’s butt, and now I can go away so she can stalk her fuzz floating in the air..it is utterly pointless to continue to brush her. She leaves the room out of politeness for the stupid human.

As I write this, I am being summoned for a scratchie. I have work to do this time. How does that make you feel, cat?

Nothing. I’m the tree in the forest that fell down and no one heard it.

Still, my wife got it to calm down enough, and I thought this was a great time for a big ‘ol brushie, the kind that makes a fuzzball that could be woven into a toy mouse if I had the inclination. I began to brush the whole cat.

Brushing a cat like this causes serious problems. First off, If the cat wanted “brushies”, she knows she can go outside and writhe in the driveway. But I did it anyway.

Our half-Siamese wants total fealty to her all day. But, I thought, she needs a good brushing now that my wife has calmed her. Our cat can only retain its dignity for so long under the brush. Then the cat seems to fall apart when it is near. Mush. Siamese mush when brushed. Most of the time. I got her thru her undercoat with no injuries.

Then, I thought it would be good to brush her underside. Cats are a little sensitive about having their bellies touched, especially from the God-Damned Idiot who is fascinated by the amount of hair bring pulled off her.

The cat became a squid, unleashing all of her claws and attaching them to me and the brush. I am still not sure what I did wrong. Was this happiness or rage? I get worried. The cat gets up and is stalking around me, asking for that thing that I use to keep her pretty. She decided to kill the brush with my hand around it. It became very sensitive, for lack of a better word. We moved something and it frightened the cat so badly that in my periphery it looked like all of her atoms blew apart and came back together as a cat again. I began asking my wife if it was going to crawl upon my head and use her squid method to ensure it is not something she likes to eat. All I was trying to do was help. This is what you want, this is what you get.

I put the brush away. Just another occupant in this house that would secretly kill me sooner or later.


About The Head Seminarian

I went to war, I went to father, I came, I saw, and it is a mess. I wouldn't have it any other way. Shitty people amuse me, people who act like human volcanoes fascinate me like fine art. Life is beautiful, and it is under attack in a manner heretofore unseen in history. I might be writing a blog. Yes, that's all I am doing, now that I think about it. Even I forget sometimes, so we're cool.

Posted on January 7, 2011, in Uncategorized and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. It’s not enough for you to like it, Amber…friggin’ say something!


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