Cat Strangler

So last night I foolishly stayed up to a ridiculous hour, like 5 am if you must know. Of course, part of my justification was I had nothing to do tomor-err, today. Surprise surprise though, guess what happened? Something came up. I suppose the name for such unexpected and inconvenient occurrences is Murphy's Law, which states that "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."

Well, unfortunately for me, the bloody bastard was dead on. My Gran comes home from work around 9, and demands *I* take her back, as she's forgotten something and her.. 'back hurts'. Lovely. But of course being the gracious and loving grandchild that I am, I graciously and lovingly obliged.

Being as it was early in the morning.. (at least for me) I was not at my best. I was tired, grouchy and annoyed at having to pretend to be humane. Of course I get something out of it, that's the point. But still, I've never been fond of those necessary inconveniences of daily life. I grew to understand the necessity of blending in at a young age, but that doesn't mean I've always been perfect. I still am not.

And early in the morning, grouchy and annoyed, is generally when I am at my least tolerant. So when my Gran prattled on about my apparent 'tiredness' (which was caused by her) and told me to be careful seeing as how

"It would kill you inside if you accidentally hurt someone, let alone yourself."

I let slip, " Only if I hurt myself", ha

Why would I care if someone else got hurt in an accident? I mean, of course it wouldn't be ideal, I'd rather not have to deal with insurance companies or replace my car, or pay someone else's hospital bill (if it was my fault). But no doubt it would be substantially, if not completely someone else's fault as well. If some moron swerves into my lane and hits me head on, I could care less what happens to them. Why should I?

That being said, now in the middle of the day I'm knackered. I have far too much free time this summer, not enough human interaction means a limited pool of fishies to play with. Which reminds me, the Cat is by far my favorite domesticated pet, hands (paws?) down. They are conceited and aloof. The narcissists of the animal world. They use me just for what I can give them, 'affection', and once they are satisfied, they leave. Only to return when they want something again. They are one creature I can entirely understand.

I once had an absolutely wicked Cat with a stupid name like Sprinkle. It is still to this day, my favorite animal my family has ever had. It would go to different family members as they were laying down to bed, and just watch them. It'd just sit there, with those dark beady eyes, and as the night wore on those eyes would dilate with malevolent intent. Out of reach of wandering hands, it would sit there quietly, tail twitching as if hunting a worthy prey. And seemingly just as you'd enter into the land of dreams, something would shock your body to awakeness. You'd open your eyes gasping for breath, and that damned cat would be staring down at you with those dilated, glossy eyes; its paws outstretched pressing all its (albeit light) weight, into your fragile throat. Usually, conveniently, right over your carotid.

Good times. I used to call her the "Cat Strangler', and had many a plans involving blaming some opportunistic bed-time homicides on her evil feline self. Alas, now she's dead. I was fond of that cat, although no longer having to feed it was nice, so all in all it was a fair trade.