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t h e n e o - c o m i n t e r n e l e c t r o n i c m a g z i n e
I n s t a l l m e n t N u m b e r 1 6 5
We Are the New International
August 4th, 2001
Editor: BMC
Writers:
BMC
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;P Featured in this installment .b
$ $
$ Cat-Astrophe - BMC $
`q p'
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EDITOR'S NOTE
(please do not read the following)
There is a curly smile and a wide open mouth. Detatched, neither
says none to the other. One curls, one opens. Then, for a break and
a change, one opens and the other one curls. And they're just sitting
there, opening and curling and curling and opening and I look to one and
then I look to the other and I stop - and wonder where everything went
right.
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;P CAT-ASTROPHE .b
`q by BMC p'
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"Well, there was this one time when... it was a couple months - no,
a few months ago... and I was watching TV and my girlfriend (we lived
together) said, `Hey so do you want to get a cat?' That's what she said
anyway but I wanted to hear what happened in the show because it was the
important part and then she must have said it again and then she walked
between me and the TV and said, `Hey Patrick! So do you want to get a
cat or what?' `Sure Sure,' I said and then motioned with my eyes that
she should move because she was ruining the best part and this wasn't a
VCR movie or anything... and I might never know about the implications
and resonance and stuff and what happened with the stolen jewels in the
end. So still I ended up missing what happened but I think I eventually
got it figured out. This one guy ended up making off with them but I
don't know if he got caught or what but it sure sounded like it...
"Oh, so then a couple days later she said to me, `Let's go get that
cat now.' And I was like, `What?' I didn't remember at first but then
she told me about how I agreed to it when I was watching that show and
how when I was falling asleep that night I agreed that we'd get a cat on
Friday. My first reaction was to get pissed off cause I remembered how
she ruined the end of that show for me, but then I thought, What the hell
did I agree to? I've never had a cat before and I don't know what I have
to do when I have a cat like feeding it and walking it and cleaning up
its piss or whatever. So here I am double-pissed off, but what can I do?
I shouldn't be having conversations when the TV's on, right? Cause I
agree to all stupid things that I have no idea what they are so now there
I was and I had to go and pick out this cat. Black one, grey one, shit,
I had no idea what I'm in for here.
"So here we go and I figured that we'd have hundreds of cats to
choose from like cans of paint at the wallpaper store or something but we
just went to this house and she ran in
Kristin ran in and a few minutes
later she brought this baby cat out and got in the passenger's seat and
said, `Well here it is.' Just my luck - I was hoping orange stripey or
black maybe and here is this ugly stupid calicode one. My face got hot
as I thought about getting double-crossed. `Let's think up a name for
this cat,' she said. I said how about Double Helix or Rat (cool names).
I thought at least I'll get SOME choice in this. Well she ignored that -
said it looked like a little cloud so she was going to name it A Little
Cloud like the name of some book she read or something.
"Yeah right.
"Whatever.
"That's a pussy name. Like as in stupid - not as in a suitable
name for a cat because then it would have been great. This cat was a
Double Helix if I'd ever seen one. So she could call it whatever she
wanted to, but this was Double Helix to me. Cause that's a cool fuckin
cat name, right? So I'd think of it as that even if I never said it out
loud.
"So we went out, Kristin bought some food and some litter and stuff
and took this cat home and I'm thinkin, `I want to see this cat do some
tricks.'
"And then she's like, `It's a cat, it doesn't do tricks'. So I
said that if we were going to buy an inanimate object that we should have
got a lamp or a box of crackers. She didn't think that was funny. Fancy
that, huh? Imagine... Kristin having no sense of humour.
"So the first thing I did, as you can imagine, after we got this
cat was HATE it. I mean, look at it! Think about it, it's a cat. It
serves no purpose, it does nothing productive, it gets in the way, it
requires all this stupid shit like food and yeah you know what I mean.
Litter, all that. So why would I be interested in it in the first place,
right?
"So all of a sudden, Kristen's like, `Patrick feed the cat,' and
`Patrick change the litter' and `Patrick walk the fuckin' - I don't
know. There's all this stuff and it's all Patrick this and Patrick that.
"So if that's not enough - and I tell you, it is - this cat starts
getting wise and all that. The cat isn't allowed in the bedroom so guess
what happens every time I open the bedroom door? The cat starts getting
creative and making up its own rules. The cat is close enough to the
room to run in when I open the door and that somehow makes it OK to do
so. The cat runs in without my knowledge and immediately runs into one
of the many spots in the room that human hands can't reach. There I
spend hours moving pieces of furniture and trying to catch that cat
before she ducks dives and slides into a new one. I peer under the bed
and she stares at me from the far corner, mocking me.
"So this happens about twice a day for 3 or 4 weeks and then I wise
up. As soon as that cat goes in the door I go out and tap on its food
bowl with a pen and it reminds the cat of food. The cat runs out of the
room, I walk back to the door, close it, and say, loud enough for all to
hear, `Who's the mack?' Rhetorical question. I'm the mack.
"But then one day I was doing a bit of writing - you know, pen and
paper... and then the cat comes and sits on my lap and I was trying to
write so I pushed it off. It comes back and sits on my lap - and I
don't mind the cat much at this point but I was trying to work and this
cat was getting in between me and my paper. So I thought to myself, `If
this cat loves me so much that it can't keep away from me then maybe I
should put the paper down for a bit and pet this fuckin thing. It'll be
a real cat/human bonding thing, you know?' So I put the paper down and -
get this - the cat gets off my lap and goes and sits on the piece of
paper that I just set down on the couch. So now I know the truth. The
cat doesn't give a shit about me, I'm just a paper holder for all it
fucking cares...
"...but then I notice something. The cat, I don't know if it's
trying to imitate me or what, but it starts trying to pick up my pencil.
I'm not lying. There it is, just working away with her two little paws
and she's trying her hardest to pick the pencil up. She's doin some
weird chopsticks-like thing and for the first time in my life I'm
starting to feel sorry for her. I mean, do you think she looks at me
every day and feels bad at the fact that I can pick stuff up and she
can't? Do you think she really wants to pick up that pencil and wishes
she could be more like me? I think this as I watch the cat trying to
grab the pencil and she's trying so hard that she's got her back legs up
in the air like she's going to lick her ass or something. Let me tell
you, this cat is sitting up like a human baby that is playing with a
pencil on the ground and I'm sure she wants nothing more than to be a bit
more human, to have those bending fingers and thumb, but she can't.
She's a fucking cat and she's stuck with that for the rest of her life.
She'll never learn to speak human, she'll never amount to anything or do
anything productive, but hey - she's a cat and that's what cats do!
Right? I'm thinking all this while she's trying desperately, grabbing
and smacking and trying to bite this pen and there's nothing she can do
to pick it up and there would be nothing she could do even if her life
depended on it.
"So yeah, like I said, I guess that's the first time I ever felt
sorry for my cat.
"So here I am, feelin sorry for this cat, and that's about the time
that I decided I was going to have to be this cat's number one. I was
going to take it under my wing and really show it what life was about. I
was going to raise it - help it grow up. I figured the best way to do
this would be by teaching it to do some tricks like a dog or a monkey
learns to do. So first I tried getting it to fetch the stick and that
didn't work. The ball worked sometimes but the cat would never bring it
back to me. Sit didn't work, lie down didn't work, roll over didn't work,
and let me tell you, I tried my hardest! I'd force the cat into position
when it wouldn't go and I would yell at it as loud as I could until it
did what I asked it to... but it never did so I just kept yelling. But
the louder I yelled, the more the cat didn't do tricks. I even tried
flailing the cat about and that didn't make it behave any better either.
Then one time Kristin called me a dumb idiot for teaching the cat tricks
when she already told me that cats don't do tricks. But I wasn't going
to give up like that.
"So I figured that I would take the cat for a walk. But we didn't
have a leash so I tied a shoestring around its neck and took it out into
the street to go for a walk. After going for a couple blocks I noticed
that the cat wasn't walking and that I had probably been dragging it for
at least the last fifty feet. Here I'm trying my hardest to help it make
something out of itself and all it does is lie on the street and be
lazy. Kristin says that _I_ do nothing all day! Well, while she's
neglecting me, I'm taking care of this cat, obviously also neglected by
her since it never learned to walk yet. This idea got me furious, so I
continued dragging the cat till we got down near the pub so I had a few
beers to get nice and drunk for when Kristin got back so I could really
tell her what was on my mind about this cat and how I was better with it
than she was.
"Of course, when she got back I was a bit tipsy and slurring a tiny
bit and maybe staggering too but I don't think she noticed. I've always
believed I was good at covering up this sort of thing. Anyway, she says,
`Where's the cat?' and I quickly think of, `Prolly around somewheres.'
A few minutes later I realize it's still at the pub, so I say it must
have escaped and I'll go out looking for it while she does whatever the
hell she `supposedly' does when she comes back from work.
"About fifteen minutes later I come back, still buzzing, with the
cat on the leash. `WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE SHOESTRING AROUND LITTLE
CLOUD'S NECK?' she screams. She always had this annoying habit of
calling the cat by its name. I tried explaining to her that the string
was a leash but she just asked me a bunch of questions like why was it
being walked and how it could have gotten lost in such a way and how it
could have gotten outside in the first place because we never let the cat
out of the apartment. `Shut up!' I said to her. Well, I didn't actually
say it, but I wanted to. Anyway, Kristin takes the collar off the cat
with some scissors, all the while complaining about how tight it is and
how the cat is supposedly having a tough time breathing and I'm
thinking, `Yeah right!' That was a bad scene that night because I had to
sleep on the couch and my girlfriend slept in the bed with the cat.
"I slept in late the next day. Kristin was already at work. I
woke up and the cat was looking at me. I think it had started to realize
how valuable my friendship was to it. It hopped up on the couch and I
patted its head a bit. It meowed. Then I took a shower and it waited
for me and meowed again. `Shut up,' I said to it. Then I was drying off
and it meowed again. This was really starting to upset me. Maybe it was
hungry. Ahh well, Kristen would feed it when she got home so it didn't
really matter. It would only be... five minutes or ten or so. I'd slept
longer than I thought!
"I got dressed, tried to make myself look like I had been looking
for jobs. Then the cat came and sat on my lap and was purring. This was
the first time I had ever heard it purring because of me; I had finally
won it over! I felt like a breakthrough had been made and the cat
finally was mature enough to allow me to have a serious relationship with
it. Then I heard Kristen's key at the door and the cat immediately leapt
from my lap and rushed to the door. Oh, that fucking Kristen, always
ruining my friendship. She always ruins every thing good that I have
going for myself. First there was that time that we had chips and she
was eating them faster than me, and then there was the time that she went
out for supper with friends after work and wouldn't cook anything for me
when she got home, oh... but this was over the top. This was more than
it. I'd had enough.
"She walked in, her face changing from a smile to a blank look.
`At least it wasn't pure frown,' I thought. Still, could've been better.
`What have you been doing today?' she asked flatly.
"`Looking for jobs, what the hell else?' I replied.
"She wanted to know where I had been looking for jobs and I said in
the newspaper. She asked if she could read the entertainment section and
I got mad because I didn't really have the newspaper. She said she
fuckin well knew that because I hadn't put socks on to go to the store
and my hair was still wet. Oh, this was too much. She was cutting me
down in front of the cat. So this was how she won its love. Dammit, I
tried to train that cat, to walk it, to do every single goddamned think
and she stole the cat from me and I can't fucking believe she would be so
cold. Fuck this. FUCK THIS FUCKIN BULL SHIT!
"`I'm sorry,' I lied, `I couldn't sleep after our fight because I
felt so bad for hurting your feelings.' She seemed to believe it. We
talked a bit and after she went out and got the paper. The cat laid on
her for the rest of the night, purring and shit while Kristin read the
stocks and bonds or whatever the hell she was interested in.
"I pretended to be asleep as Kristin got up for work the next
morning, but I really wasn't. I had a plan. I was wide awake, and as
she showered I thought of a brilliant scheme to make the cat love me once
and for all. As she hummed some song that I never liked in the first
place, I rolled out of bed and grabbed a sock from the drawer. The
shower turned off and I leapt back into bed and pretended to be asleep
again.
"Peeking through one eye I saw her get dressed, the same old fancy
stupid high class I'm-better-than-you-clothes she wore every day, and she
sprayed on her perfume. That was the key, I realized. She went out of
the room and as I heard her put on her shoes I rolled over in the bed and
grabbed the perfume off the nightstand. As I heard her keys jingle I
sprayed the perfume all over the sock. When she walked out the door I
jumped out of bed, and as I heard her lock the deadbolt from the other
side I opened the bedroom door and walked over to the cat.
"When Kristen came back in a minute later because she forgot her
lunch, she caught me naked with the cat in my hand, the perfumed hand...
the perfumed sock over the cat's head and I was punching the cat with the
other hand.
"I figured that if I could make the cat hurt while smelling
Kristen's perfume then it would hate Kristen as much as me. That
would've been good. That would've put us on equal footing. Then the cat
would have hated both of us and I could start all over trying to get the
cat to love me. I would have been able to do it if everything had..."
The psychiatrist looked at Patrick.
"Wait. Now, is that when Kristen told you to leave and never
contact her again?" he asked.
"Yeah, that's when - no, it's not like that though. You're making
it sound like she broke up with me over that but I think she must have
been fucking around on me or something cause I never did anything really
bad or anything. She's just crazy and shit."
"I don't usually argue with my patients," the psychiatrist said,
"but when she kicked you out and kept the cat, you tried to kill yourself,
correct? To commit suicide?"
"Yeah. What's your point?"
"Well, in your suicide note, this suicide note right here, you wrote
a five page farewell to your cat and never mentioned Kristin's name once.
Why is that?"
"Well, I guess I figured everything would still work out OK, right?"
"What?"
"With her, with Kristen. She'd be OK and she had the cat and stuff
so she had nothing to worry about."
"No, I mean how would you be OK after you died... when you
committed suicide... when you killed yourself?"
"Oh, well, like when I went to heaven the cat would commit suicide
too and we'd be in Heaven together forever."
"Cats don't go to heaven," the psychiatrist stated firmly, "they
never have and they never will."
Patrick paused. The momentum that had been carrying him through
this conversation and, in fact, through everything in life until this
point, came to an abrupt halt and he looked as though he didn't know
where he was. "Really?" he said.
"Really," replied the doctor.
Patrick's eyes filled with tears. "Then the cat won't be in Heaven
with me?"
"No, Patrick. I'm sorry to let you know that you will never find
solace, not even in death."
Patrick sat there, unalive. He couldn't live and he couldn't die.
"Well, I think we've made a lot of progress today, Patrick," said
the doctor, "but I'm afraid our session is over. Come back and see me in
a few months."
"But I might not be around in another few months," wept Patrick.
"Well, then it's been nice knowing you. I'll be sure to keep in
touch with your family doctor."
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Copyright 2001 by The Neo-Comintern #165-08/04/01
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