“I’ll post about Chooch’s birthday party,” I thought to myself while I was washing all the dishes Henry left in the sink for me from last night. Suspicions are seriously being raised. I’m certain he’s hosting dinner parties while I’m slaving away at my SUPER HARD job every night. And if I find out he’s making maple-baked pears, I will seriously hedge-clip his nutz0rz.
A muffled commotion broke through the sound of my SENSITIVE SKIN pruning from all the dirty dish water lapping against it. I turned off the water and marched into the dining room, where I was sure I’d find my serial-killer-in-training bugging my cat Speck (nee Nicotina) as usual. She was perched a top one of the computer monitors and Chooch quickly fled into the living room, shouting, “I didn’t do anything!”
All the toys he has, and it’s the poor cat he wants to bend in unnatural directions. A cursory glance at her told me she was OK, and I went back into the kitchen to get a bowl of cereal.
When I sat down at the computer desk with my Special K, my arm stopped its spooning motion halfway to my mouth. There were bright red droplets of something on the desk. I looked closer and, while I hoped it was Faygo Red Pop, I was pretty sure it was blood. I looked up at Speck. Her paws were dyed a diffused red, and there was blood-splattering on the wall behind her.
I freaked. She had both eye balls. She still had a tail. She wouldn’t stand still long enough for me to inspect the pads of her paws.
“What did you do to her?” I yelled at Chooch, who at this point was the personification of guilt and evil fucking on a bed of carnage.
“Nuffin’!” he shouted, hysteria tinging his voice and completely giving himself up. “Smidge did it!” (Smidge, nee Marcy.)
Meanwhile, Marcy was perched, stock still, on the steps, watching this play out with huge owl-eyes.
I noticed a pair of orange kids’ scissors on the dining room table. Chooch clearly skipped over the “Hiding the Evidence” chapter of his serial killer handbook.
“Did you cut her with scissors?” I asked, trying to stay calm but there was BLOOD TRAILS ON THE FLOOR AND WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY CAT?
He wouldn’t answer me, so I sent him up to his room and called Henry, at which point my panic burst out of me like one of those pressure washers Henry was trying to teach me about yesterday.
“YOU BETTER COME HOME RIGHT NOW!” I screeched into the phone. “OUR SON IS A GODDAMN SERIAL KILLER, OH MY GOD, THIS ALL YOUR FAULT, HE GETS THIS FROM YOU!”
By the time Henry sped home from work, I was able to deduce that Speck’s ear had been snipped by scissors. The snip was about half an inch long, maybe a little shorter, and my friend Rhonda reminded me via Twitter that head wounds bleed a lot and that Speck had probably forgotten all about it by then. When Henry arrived, Speck was curled up in my lap, purring contently and looking around with her signature question-marked expression. The blood had begun to congeal on her ear by then, and I was able to clean up the rest of her with a wet paper towel, so the scene was less “Leatherface was here” than it was when the mutilation initially happened.
Henry deemed that it wasn’t bad enough to take her to the vet. He cleaned off the wound and dabbed it good with Neosporin, then sat down with Chooch and tried to reason with him (HA!) before confiscating the new Ben 10 toys he just bought with his Toys R Us giftcards.
One by one, the other cats have realized that Speck’s ear is oozing blood, and there is an intense blood-lust situation going down right now. They keep trying to inspect her, and Speck is getting all alley-cat on them, hissing and screaming, and there’s fur flying, and I’ll be honest here: I feel like I’m in some horrible made-for-TV Stephen King adaptation and I DO NOT LIKE IT.
So, instead of writing about the fond memories I have from my asshole son’s birthday party, I’m trying to find a good, safe home for my poor cat who doesn’t deserve this shitty life. This is only because my initial suggestion to get rid of Chooch was vetoed.
I really, really don’t want to give Speck up. I’ve had her since 1998, when I lived in my first apartment!