Posted in That Happened...

My Pussy Redemption


I got a call late last night from a friend. She needed help: she had an injured pussy. She needed to go to the ER right away. She was alone and couldn’t drive with an injured pussy! So, like the good friend I (sometimes) am, I offered to drive her.

I’m referring to her kitten, you pervs. Not that kind of kitten either; a feline.

It was 10:30 when I got the call. My friend had just gotten home from work when she noticed her new kitten was not putting weight on her back paw. She was crying and obviously in pain (the kitten, not my friend). Of course, the only place open at that time of night is the twenty-four hour emergency veterinarian. After two and a half hours of waiting (!), she got the good news that nothing was broken. However, she did seem to have hurt her knee. That good news was promptly ended when they the took the gloves off, strapped on the bill, and butt raped her for $225.00.

Even though this kitten story had a good outcome, it hasn’t always been this way. I had a run in with a cat, with this same friend, 17 years ago.

I was 16 and newly licensed. I had red hatchback 1989 Ford Escort. It was one badass ride. I loved that guy. Since I was one of the first of my friends to get my license, I was the go-to bitch for rides. I didn’t care; I was driving! I would tool all around the city/state. It was fantastic. I had my portable CD player set up on my dashboard. It was the front seat passengers responsibility to keep the player from falling and the CD’s from skipping. A reasonable price to pay for a ride, I thought.

This day was like any other ordinary day, taking some friends home from school. As I was driving down her street, I  suddenly saw something from the corner of my eye, on the passenger side. My first reaction was that my precious CD player was about to fall. Just as I was about to remind my friend that this was her primary responsibility as my front seat passenger, I realized that it wasn’t the CD player; it was a cat. It was heading directly into my path. Before I knew what happened, I heard a sickening thud. Now, I’m not sure if any of you have had the displeasure of hitting an animal, but I can assure you it is the most terrifying sound and experience. I can still hear it.

I immediately stopped my car and then made the next worse mistake; I looked behind me to assess the damage. I then saw the  ill-fated cat laying in the road. It was dead. Very dead. So, I did what any normal sixteen year old kid would do….I freaked the fuck out. I started crying. I had no idea what I was supposed to do. They certainly didn’t cover “What To Do When You Kill An Animal” in driver’s education. Or, if they did, I wasn’t paying attention.

I’m not sure what happened next because it’s kind of a blur, but the next thing I know a good Samaritan had stopped to see what happened. After I explained it, he called animal control. He told me that I should wait there for them to show up. So, I did. As we were waiting, this good Samaritan told me he thought he knew who owned the cat. Great. As awful as it was, I was holding out hope that this was some feral cat that no one would notice was gone. Of course not. He further informed me that he was going to GO TO THEIR HOUSE TO TELL THEM, with me still present at the crime scene. I could feel all the color drain from me. I asked him to please, please not do that. Well, it turns out this so-called good Samaritan was a sadistic fuck, because he decided to do it anyway. I could have died right there and then on that street. I watched as he went to the house and knocked on the door. I may have shit my pants, I can’t remember. I don’t believe in God or angels, but something in the universe was in line because no one was home.

Animal control finally showed up. This was it. I was doomed. I approached the officer resigned to the fact that I would be taken into the station, cuffed and printed, and put into a cell with other animal murderers. Would I get a phone call? Do I call a lawyer? How do they treat people of my kind of crime in prison? It wasn’t a good vision. I decided I would plead my case and beg for mercy. Surely, he would understand. Here we go.

When I started talking to the officer, he wasn’t particularly interested in my story. Like, at all. He was half listening as he walked around the back of his van to get his tools. Which consisted of a shovel and a garbage bag. Through my tears, I watched as he scooped the limp body up, into the bag, unceremoniously closed it, and put it into the van. The whole process took about 30 seconds. I asked if there was anything I needed to do, a report or something? He looked at me with complete indifference. He said no, there was nothing I needed to do. He wasn’t even sure why I was there. I told him that the good Samaritan-turned-sadist told me I needed to stay! Again, another blank look. Then he spoke the three most glorious words: you can go. I didn’t need to be told twice. I got into my car and got the hell out of there.

I have felt horrible for the past 17 years about this. I killed someone’s pet. I have two dogs of my own, and I literally cannot imagine how that would feel. But after last night, I like to think that I have paid a little into my personal debt to this cat by helping another one out in its time of need. Circle of life and all that shit. I’m hoping that my small good deed was noticed by that cat up there in pussy heaven, and he won’t come back to kill me someday.

Author:

I write this blog to (over) share the good, bad, and absurd with the masses. You can also find me performing stand-up comedy. Or….eating pizza.

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