The Black Heart of Caviar

Sister Madly recently told a friend that when it comes to a Crazy Cat Lady, ‘crazy’ depicts the cat, not the lady.

She stands by this claim, by golly.

disguise

Now Sister Madly, herself, has 13 cats by proxy- 3 through the Professors, 2 via Tallulah, 1 outside the Pub, and 7 throughout the neighborhood. But this was not always the case; just a few years ago, Sister Madly had but 1: Tallulah’s cat, Caviar.

On the surface, Caviar is all fluff and cuddles, driven by a bloodlust for moths, canned peas, and pine needles, and is as much of a fan of hard cider as Sister Madly. Many a winter’s night he would curl up in her lap, licking cider off her fingers while Tallulah tutted her maternal disapproval, which was largely ignored. Indeed, Caviar was a lazy, languorous drunk.

But if one were to look straight into his soul: madness- sweet, cider-marinated madness. Yes, Sister Madly is proud of that little demon psychopath, having perfected the art of crazy with methods entirely of his own devising. It was most unfortunate that Caviar was not around during Sister Madly’s childhood to pass along some Tallulah-terrorizing tips, although her own signature move of sitting as close as possible to Tallulah- without actually touching- was a wicked success.

pink-slippers

Unfortunately, Tallulah was not around for Caviar’s Masterpiece; no, she was out on something called a ‘date’ with someone called a ‘boyfriend’ due to this newfangled thing called ‘love’ the moment Sister Madly realized that half of her shoelace was missing. Had Tallulah mentioned that she would be away for most of the weekend (like a good elder sibling should) no doubt Caviar would have postponed his gastronomic escapade until she was all cozy at home in pink bunny slippers, painting her nails.

But no.

One would think that the rancid, I-hope-that-was-mud-I-just-stepped-in aftertaste that all shoelaces possess would have persuaded Caviar to abandon his hearty consumption, but being of the Madly mindset, he reasoned that there could be no funky aftertaste if he just kept on eating.* This resulted in an unhappy Caviar who spent the weekend deliberately making himself unsoft- thus no fun to pet- all the while giving Sister Madly the evil eye as though she had stuffed him full of shoelaces like a turkey on Thanksgiving.

* Hearty shoelace consumption causes tummy-aches. For your FYI.

nature

Once Caviar grew tired of that shoelace mucking up his system, he decided to rid himself of it in the most natural way possible- and by that, Sister Madly means the way that Mother Nature had designed.

This turned out to be rather unpleasant for all parties involved.

You see, the shoelace that is ingested whole is returned whole; it does not magically separate inside a cat’s tummy, nor does it disintegrate (as Sister Madly was hoping it would.) Thus the feline that consumes 20 inches of shoelace returns 20″ of shoelace.

cat-logic

Unfortunately, Caviar could only manage 18” on the return, which immediately sent him into a Prima Donna’s tantrum, hissing and caterwauling about the apartment willy-nilly. Sister Madly tried to reason with him, explaining that while his situation was not ideal, it was impossible to run away from the shoelace while the shoelace was still a part of him. She likened it to the few times he had tried chasing his tail, but Caviar was having none of it. Cat logic, you see, holds no respect for the reasoning of mankind.

Now the one thing Sister Madly was told was that under no circumstance should she pull the shoelace out, as it could harm the pathetic little creature. Not that she had any desire to do so; the shoelace made him look like a pull-string doll, and she wasn’t too keen on finding out what Caviar would say if she gave it a tug. She had seen the Talky Tina Twilight Zone episode and had learned a thing or two.

mother-nature

But what’s more is that, thanks to Mother Nature, the returning shoelace was not a clean shoelace, not by any stretch of the imagination. This presented a whole new set of problems as the apartment was rapidly become unsanitary; and as ignoring the problem wasn’t making it go away (oh, how she tried!) Sister Madly- accompanied by Dean Martin’s That’s Amore– spent upwards of 10 minutes chasing Caviar around with a towel, hoping to somehow herd him into the bathroom where he could work out his issues like an adult.

But it was not necessary; throwing the towel over Caviar resulted in a spastic, get-this-neon-terrycloth-horror-off-of-me ritual exorcism, which was enough to free him from the shoelace as well.

Five minutes later, he came begging for cider.

* To those with the horribly twisted minds that Sister Madly so admires, no- the shoelace was not reusable.

THEME SONG: That’s Amore, Dean Martin

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33 responses

  1. I think I’m madly in love with Caviar!

    Liked by 1 person

    October 1, 2016 at 6:22 AM

  2. Holy crap! Haha! I snorted coffee up my nose

    Liked by 2 people

    October 1, 2016 at 6:29 AM

  3. Loved this! Had such a good chuckle while reading this! Oh cats…I swear they are here to keep us entertained half the time. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    October 1, 2016 at 7:11 AM

  4. The black cat photo is adorable.

    Liked by 1 person

    October 1, 2016 at 10:26 AM

  5. Quite the misadventure Ms Madly. Pretty nervy of sibling to be out canoodling and unavailable when the Caviar went bad.

    Liked by 1 person

    October 1, 2016 at 12:23 PM

  6. Sh…oelace happens…

    Thank the blessed Faeries that it does, for the alternatives are far worse. The inconvenience is that the time and place, and occasionally the speed and direction, are often beyond prediction.

    I have never owned a cat – no cat has ever been owned – however a mismatched pair of the fiends once considered me their pack leader and feeder. Fortunately at the time I was domiciled (?) adjacent to an active cemetery (!) and so there was usually a ready supply of fresh turned earth within a quick sprint of the sofa. So shoelaces were never an issue, so to speak, except for that one kitten/diarrhoea/wedding scenario that left one of the guests emblazoned with the scarlet mark of terror across her décolletage. Maybe best if I don’t mention that. At least it wasn’t my wedding.

    Nice bunny slippers, by the way. Which one is the evil one? (neither can be trusted)

    Liked by 2 people

    October 1, 2016 at 10:07 PM

    • Indeed, no cat is ever owned- they adopt us. I think they consider us their pets.

      So, did these mismatched pair of fiends drag anything in from the cemetery, aside from dirt?

      All bunny slippers have evil lurking inside- they throw wild parties with the cats when the owners are away (if they weren’t evil, they would invite us to these parties!)

      Liked by 1 person

      October 2, 2016 at 12:47 PM

      • Curious you should mention it… Minuet, who was as graceful and elegant as her name suggests, had a Gothic obsession for spiders, while Parsley, an unmitigated neurotic sociopath, caused untold mayhem by releasing into the house live rodents, and on one occasion, a weasel. I am, to date, the only person I know to have survived being bitten by a weasel.
        By bizarre serendipity, I am also the only person I know to have survived being bitten by a polecat… I did not gain the ability to leap tall buildings in a single bound, however I have developed unspeakable cunning – I have been known to leave foxes in a state of utter bewilderment, and drive badgers into a witless frenzy. Fluffy bunnies are definitely an entrée, not a pet. There seem to be few downsides to my condition, and I can cope with having to trim my facial hair once a month. I find I can pass unnoticed amongst these simple folk, many of whom sport beards you could hide a goat in.
        Hmmm… twilight… I feel the urge to eat something…

        Liked by 1 person

        October 2, 2016 at 10:22 PM

  7. Sunshine Jansen

    This brings back “fond” memories of Christmastime and the shiny, unholy attraction that is exerted upon every cat in the world (or at least every cat I’ve ever introduced to a Christmas tree) to *tinsel*. Much like this experience, only more festive…

    Liked by 1 person

    October 3, 2016 at 10:46 AM

    • That would have been more festive! I think…

      Actually, it would be kinda neat to have a tinsel cat… oh man, now I want a tinsel cat!

      Liked by 1 person

      October 3, 2016 at 11:24 AM

      • Sunshine Jansen

        I think this could be achieved very easily! But careful what you wish for… 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

        October 3, 2016 at 11:34 AM

  8. I was thinking of asking for your recipe for shoelace stuffing. But after reading the rest of the story I think I’d rather be in Philadelphia. I had a dog once who pulled my socks off at every opportunity.

    Liked by 1 person

    October 5, 2016 at 9:35 AM

    • I wish I had been in Philly at the time as well.

      This dog didn’t eat the socks, right? That would have been unpleasant!

      Like

      October 5, 2016 at 1:54 PM

      • He slobbered them up pretty good, but I never saw him eat one.

        Liked by 1 person

        October 5, 2016 at 3:13 PM

  9. I want to see a picture of this cat sometime….. or a video drunk on cider 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    October 7, 2016 at 8:35 AM

  10. What a fun story to read! Just shared it on Facebook.

    Liked by 1 person

    October 8, 2016 at 11:57 PM

    • Ha! I appreciate that- thank you.

      Of course, it was more fun to read that it was to experience… cats… (sigh)

      Like

      October 9, 2016 at 9:42 AM

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