Take my cat, please. (found on craigslist) - Tilted Forum Project Discussion Community

cyrnel · 11-17-2005, 11:26 AM

So I have this cat.
Actually it's my girlfriend's cat.
Actually we have two, a small grey tabby named T**** that is a blast to have around, and the 'other one'.
It's corpulent, bright orange and has medium length hair, so of course to me its name has only ever been Fat Bastard.
(I'm not kidding, this cat is obese enough that its gut leaves its own trail in the middle of its footprints after I vacuum the carpet, uniformly triangulating the food dish, the litter box, and the hammock it has steamrollered for itself in my underwear hamper)
Fat Bastard has a problem.
Its very existence revolves solely around consuming anything organic.
I mean anything.

We can't have real plants anymore, not even cactus.
(My girlfriend didn't laugh when I, tired of the green vomit, suggested Poinsettias)
We have all of the food stored in cupboards that have child locks on them.
Opening the fridge involves holding a broom.
(I'd love to teach the fucker a lesson by trapping it in there for a little bit, but beyond the cessation of all sexual activity when my girlfriend finds out, I'm pretty sure this thing is as well-insulated as a walrus and I'd only open the door and discover carnage, not to mention fuzzy rage propelling itself to freedom with one of its signature exertion farts)
We have a bungee cord holding the lid on the trash can, which also happens to be attached to the wall to prevent, as my girlfriend calls it, 'accidental tipping'.
Ordering pizza involves trapping it in a bedroom, then listening to it scratch furiously at the door as soon as it gets a whiff of oregano.
It drinks pop.
We can't walk away from the stove while preparing a meal, as even scalding hot pots and pans have proven no match for its powerful, powerful lust.
I love bacon, yet it's become contraband since the 'incident'.
(Which my girlfriend still somehow regards as my fault, as if I encouraged the fucking thing to snatch sizzling bacon right out of the pan, headfirst, then tear-ass around the house alternating between muted howling and ragged, gasping swallows.)
It has, on a number of occasions, snarfed an entire pack of cigarettes.
Christ, this cat has eaten soap that smelled like melon.
It was entertaining at first, playing the 'Let's see what we can get in there' game, but when this fucking beast blew right through wasabi, jalapenos, mustard, lemons, live grasshoppers, Skittles, and an extra-shot latte, I got the point.

I'm tired of having to treat simple food items like they're plutonium.
I miss having a bag of chips or a cold pizza on the coffee table while I'm watching the game.
I'm fed up with having to wait to do laundry because the basement has been fouled by a particularly rank dump.

Enough is enough.

If you want her, she's yours.
The girlfriend or the cat, it's your call�
(Either way, you don't even have to get out of the car; I'll just unwrap a Kraft single and throw it in the backseat.)

Please, help a guy out�

* this is in or around the end of my rope

JustJess · 11-17-2005, 12:29 PM

Oh, man... I giggled a lot at this one. Cats are sneaky!

rsl12 · 11-17-2005, 12:41 PM

poor guy. i feel bad for him. hot peppers are anathema to my cat, and I've been able to exploit the fact to keep her out of human food.

not a good advertisement to "sell" a cat though--I'll be curious to hear if he manages to solve his problem, one way or another...

KellyC · 11-17-2005, 04:14 PM

Orange, fat, loves food....Garfield???

11-17-2005, 11:26 AM	#1 (permalink)
cyrnel Adequate Location: In my angry-dome.	Take my cat, please. (found on craigslist) So I have this cat. Actually it's my girlfriend's cat. Actually we have two, a small grey tabby named T**** that is a blast to have around, and the 'other one'. It's corpulent, bright orange and has medium length hair, so of course to me its name has only ever been Fat Bastard. (I'm not kidding, this cat is obese enough that its gut leaves its own trail in the middle of its footprints after I vacuum the carpet, uniformly triangulating the food dish, the litter box, and the hammock it has steamrollered for itself in my underwear hamper) Fat Bastard has a problem. Its very existence revolves solely around consuming anything organic. I mean anything. We can't have real plants anymore, not even cactus. (My girlfriend didn't laugh when I, tired of the green vomit, suggested Poinsettias) We have all of the food stored in cupboards that have child locks on them. Opening the fridge involves holding a broom. (I'd love to teach the fucker a lesson by trapping it in there for a little bit, but beyond the cessation of all sexual activity when my girlfriend finds out, I'm pretty sure this thing is as well-insulated as a walrus and I'd only open the door and discover carnage, not to mention fuzzy rage propelling itself to freedom with one of its signature exertion farts) We have a bungee cord holding the lid on the trash can, which also happens to be attached to the wall to prevent, as my girlfriend calls it, 'accidental tipping'. Ordering pizza involves trapping it in a bedroom, then listening to it scratch furiously at the door as soon as it gets a whiff of oregano. It drinks pop. We can't walk away from the stove while preparing a meal, as even scalding hot pots and pans have proven no match for its powerful, powerful lust. I love bacon, yet it's become contraband since the 'incident'. (Which my girlfriend still somehow regards as my fault, as if I encouraged the fucking thing to snatch sizzling bacon right out of the pan, headfirst, then tear-ass around the house alternating between muted howling and ragged, gasping swallows.) It has, on a number of occasions, snarfed an entire pack of cigarettes. Christ, this cat has eaten soap that smelled like melon. It was entertaining at first, playing the 'Let's see what we can get in there' game, but when this fucking beast blew right through wasabi, jalapenos, mustard, lemons, live grasshoppers, Skittles, and an extra-shot latte, I got the point. I'm tired of having to treat simple food items like they're plutonium. I miss having a bag of chips or a cold pizza on the coffee table while I'm watching the game. I'm fed up with having to wait to do laundry because the basement has been fouled by a particularly rank dump. Enough is enough. If you want her, she's yours. The girlfriend or the cat, it's your call� (Either way, you don't even have to get out of the car; I'll just unwrap a Kraft single and throw it in the backseat.) Please, help a guy out� * this is in or around the end of my rope __________________ There are a vast number of people who are uninformed and heavily propagandized, but fundamentally decent. The propaganda that inundates them is effective when unchallenged, but much of it goes only skin deep. If they can be brought to raise questions and apply their decent instincts and basic intelligence, many people quickly escape the confines of the doctrinal system and are willing to do something to help others who are really suffering and oppressed." -Manufacturing Consent: Noam Chomsky and the Media, p. 195 Last edited by cyrnel; 11-17-2005 at 12:47 PM..

11-17-2005, 12:29 PM	#2 (permalink)
JustJess Unencapsulated Location: Kittyville	Oh, man... I giggled a lot at this one. Cats are sneaky! __________________ My heart knows me better than I know myself, so I'm gonna let it do all the talkin'.

11-17-2005, 12:41 PM	#3 (permalink)
rsl12 On the lam Location: northern va	poor guy. i feel bad for him. hot peppers are anathema to my cat, and I've been able to exploit the fact to keep her out of human food. not a good advertisement to "sell" a cat though--I'll be curious to hear if he manages to solve his problem, one way or another... __________________ oh baby oh baby, i like gravy.

11-17-2005, 04:14 PM	#4 (permalink)
KellyC Comment or else!! Location: Home sweet home	Orange, fat, loves food....Garfield??? __________________ Him: Ok, I have to ask, what do you believe? Me: Shit happens.