Tuesday, June 23, 2009

I'm Going Nuts

And I don't mind that I"m going nuts. My mind has been so stressed everything is a big funny joke. I have decided to hire a comedian to answer all the cat phone calls. I will hire Jay Leno if he will take the job. Or any other comedian. The pay will be low. But times are tough, you know?

I'm going to take this comedian everywhere with me too, to answer all cat questions. I will tell people, "let me refer that demand to my comedian."

I went up to Lacomb, to pick up the three unfixed females and the male they adopted from me over a year ago, whom they claim is the cause of the girls being pregnant, even though he's neutered.

I got up there, and sure enough, his ball sacks are completely empty. However, they were anxious to lay the blame on me somehow for having two orange females with seven kittens between them, and an adult torti, whom they said was dumped pregnant, with four more orange kittens. They said "They all look like the male you gave us."

I'm straining to see that. Three tortis and 8 all orange are the kitten colors and the male is a black tux. I try to keep from giggling hysterically and rolling in the grass with laughter, because I'm going nuts and I wish my future comedian employee was there to take on this one. I wanted to say, but couldn't because it seemed so outrageous anyhow that they were saying they looked like the black tux, but I wanted to say, "Um, I'm not seeing that resemblance."

I said, "I bet you have an unfixed orange male roaming around here." The daughter, or someone, not sure how the woman fit in the scheme of things there, said, "Oh, the neighbors had a big orange cat but it was hit on the road."

"Well, there you have it," I said, thinking I was off the hook. But no, I wasn't that lucky.

"It was this male, this one you gave us," and they again pointed an accusing finger at poor old huge Willy, whose ball sacks hang empty. "Ok, well damn it then," I said, as cheerily as I could with an outraged twang, "I'll take him in and this time, it'll be done for sure." I faithfully loaded up the already neutered male into a carrier.

They tried to put one of the orange mothers into a carrier and she shot off. So I just brought the one unfixed female and the neutered male who magically will be found to be completely sterile and incapable of viable sperm production.

I stupidly stuffed two of the zillion kittens into a carrier, since they are so good at guilt production.

See, they had offered to foster a fixed mom cat from that Bond Road woman with 16 orange cats over a year ago. The Bond woman had claimed to be moving to Europe and all 16 of the cats had to go. Another Albany rescuer had told her she'd take them and asked if I would ride along. We found 8 cats stuffed into a blue storage container in the horse barn, covered in feces and urine. We couldn't leave them. The other rescuer then loped out of the helping picture for the most part. The Bond Road woman never moved at all. She was nuts too. Like me. Only much worse.

Ok, now I'm starting to giggle, just thinking about the Bond Orange colony. The woman wouldn't even come out of the place when we arrived, except to peek through the curtains. She said they sell fancy horses all over the world, like South Africa.

That was once, one of the only times she actually spoke. And I'm seeing that urine filled storage container she had 8 cats stuffed into, in the back of my mind, while she's trying to convince us she's a hotshot fancy horse dealer of the entire world. Ok, the giggling is starting in big time. Where's that comedian?

I live clear inside the theater of the absurd. The stage: Linn County, Oregon.

Then Fostering woman when fostering left the door open to the foster room and to the outside. The spayed orange mom cat made off into the woods with one of her unfixed orange kittens clutched in her mouth. For some reason, this provoked fostering kitten woman into a scream at me fest, even though I had nothing to do with leaving a door open.

When I heard of the escape I went right up to search and not one of them would even say one word to me. I then tried to take the rest of the foster kittens back with me, and they refused to let me take another one of the unfixed orange kittens, leaving them two. I said "You'll have to get them fixed if you are keeping them as yours." And they agreed. They didn't get them fixed. They had kittens and now that's my fault too.

Yay!!! I love blame! Blame me for more! Come on! Lay the blames on. They're all my fault. EVen global warming is my fault. Did you know that it is? Now you do know so there is absolutely no excuse for you to not start blaming me.

I am so loved in this county for my cat fixing ways that everyone yells at me. Every unfixed cat in the world is my fault. I know.

I'm a slacker! I'm a slacker who is going to hire a comedian to pose as me, then slacker me is heading for the hills, giggling as I go.


  1. okay what i am going to propose to you, Jody, is get yourself a laser printer (you can get used ones for ten bucks - only black print but thats all you n eed) or i'll get one and send it to you - type up contracts contracts contracts - along with copies of things that say this cat was spayed/neutered by dr. such and such on such date. have the person who takes the cat/kittens whatever back sign it - bring it home, make a copy of their signed statement - give one back to them - you keep the other. then, if people agree to get their kittens fixed, and they sign something to that - and they don't - they can't blame it on you. they signed something and you have a copy.
    I'm still laughing at that sterile male cat who is probably thinking "oh no - again they are castrating me???? what did i do wrong, God, what did i do wrong?"

  2. So exactly how would paper work help, when the cats ball sacks are obviously empty and he has a right eartip to boot and he looks nothing like the kittens he supposedly sired while the unfixed now deceased neighbor cat does, look exactly like all the kittens, pretty much making a good arguement that he was the only unfixed male in that area. So, when common sense, a right eartip, the knowledge by them as stated, that he went up to be neutered, the nonlook like him kittens that have somehow been miscontrued deliberately in the minds of several people to look like him, ---I'm lost now, but will say, "When you're dealing with all these obvious flaws in the arguement, how would paperwork help? Medication might help, but not paperwork.

  3. Ok, since I've been wrong before when I think I'm obviously right, if it turns out that he got a lazy neuter, and by that I mean he had one nondescended and they never went after it and called it good and lied to me, if it turns out he is indeed a crypt with one up in his belly not removed, and that can be told by pulling out his penis and checking for barbs at the base, I will apologize on my knees in the most profuse disgusting kissy wissy manner possible and I apologize in almost a stalking way anyhow, because of old deeply imbedded Christian white abused girl guilt. And...AND...I will paint, with nontoxic vegetable based paint, all 11 kittens into black tuxes. I'll do that. It's who I am.

  4. the paper work would help show the woman how stupid she is.....since she obviously can't read the signs of a neutered cat, i.e., no balls, eartip, etc. - perhaps she can read actual writing...oops, then again, if she's that stupid.....
    ah, isn't good to always be the scapegoat? Now, when someone asks - what is your job? You can say, "Me/ I'm a scapegoat..."

  5. You're wrong. I'm not just a scapegoat. I'm so much more. I am a Scapegoat Extraordinairre and don't you forget it.