After spending a few nights at the Goodman's home, I had to be brave and venture back into my ghetto apartment because I still had a full month left on my lease. My father, the avid hunter and home defender immediately offered me my choice of the virtually endless models of firearms that he owns. Because to my right wing, Fox News loving, old school farm boy father (whom I love and adore more than just about anyone in the whole world), firearms are the answer. I tend to disagree and politely declined his offer. Multiple times. Finally he gave up the idea of having himself a modern day Annie Oakley for a daughter and dropped the gun issue.
But not without finding what he deemed a suitable alternative. Within days of the incident, I was heavily armed with every size of pepper spray that they make (including two cans for each purse I own and an industrial one for my apartment), wasp spray, and a baseball bat that would intimidate Ken Griffey, Jr.!
While these all sound like fantastic weapons for the single city gal like myself, it turns out that I'm not so great in moments of crisis. Enter Mean Momma Cat Who Wants To Kill Me – we'll call her THE BEAST for short. After a few days back in my apartment and a lot of sleepless nights clinging to the phone and pepper spray just waiting to be murdered, I was on my way to work when I heard something rustling in the bushes underneath my stairs. Upon further investigation, I discovered that the stray cat I had occasionally seen around the complex was a proud new momma to four adorable bundles of furry cuteness.
Not wanting to scare her away or make her feel threatened, I immediately ran back upstairs and poured a bowl full of milk, a bowl full of water, and opened a fresh can of tuna and laid them out for her to feast on while I was busy at work trying to cure the world of cancer. Move over, Mother Teresa! I was so proud of my amazing humanitarian spirit and left with an extra spring in my step. Until I returned home that evening and saw that she hadn't touched the amazing meal I had made for her.
Hmmm...maybe she didn't know it was all the way up here on the landing. And after all, she had just given birth and was probably exhausted. I barely have the energy to climb those 15 steps after a long day at the office, for Pete's sake! Sorry sweet, precious momma cat. I shall right my wrong tomorrow morning!
Day 2: Repeat the day 1 menu, except this time put it down on her level so that she can get to it. Yes, that should do. She's going to love me, of this I am certain! Look at me, taking care of the lost souls on this Earth...feline or otherwise. I love that cat and her cute babies!
Day 3: After returning home to the same result of untouched food and beverage I had so diligently provided, I thought maybe she didn't like the menu. Not a tuna fan? Understandable. I'll try New England Clam Chowder. Who doesn't like clam chowder?? I'm a VEGETARIAN and I could eat the stuff by the bucket! She'll surely love this.
Day 4: She hates my cooking! For being a really skinny, abandoned stray cat with babies to feed, momma cat is quite the picky eater! I guess I'll try again tomorrow.
Day 5: That b**** just tried to kill me! Okay, so kill might be a strong word, but she definitely hissed and clawed and lunged at me with her sharp teeth this morning as I tried to get down the stairs and to the parking lot. Listen here, Miss Thang, I live here. I am allowed to go up and down the stairs whenever I feel like it. And yes, while your babies are very cute, I do not want them. Nor do I wish them any harm. Kapeesh?
Evening of Day 5: Apparently you can't reason with a ferile momma cat.
Day 10: After ten days of having to wait her out morning, noon, and night just to get in and out of my home without being attacked, I broke down and called Animal Control. 'Yes, hello, I have an issue with having a very protective mean momma cat under my stairs who claws and lunges and almost bites me every day. I don't want her to be hurt, but do you take them to a shelter or anything?' Woman who gets paid way too much to do way too little at Animal Control: 'We don't catch cats. If you can get it in a box, we'll come for it, but we won't put it in a box for you.' Me: 'But you're Animal Control.' Her: 'Yeah, but we don't do that. Get a box and put her in it.' Me: 'She tries to attack me every day for literally just walking – I don't think she'll get into a box for me.' Her: 'Sorry. Good luck with that.' Click. Really? REALLY??! You're Animal Control. You control the animals. I have an out of control animal. This is clearly your territory!!!
Day 15: This has gotten REALLY old. Spraying water on her just pisses her off, laying a towel over the stairs just gives her added incentive to claw through it and get to my lovely skin, and animal control is still sticking to their 'you get her in a box and we'll come pick her up' plan. So I begrudgingly decided to try one of Papa Higdon's tactics. Late that evening, as I was walking from the parking lot to my apartment, I decided to have my pepper spray handy. I still didn't want to hurt her, but maybe if I just scared her enough, she would make her home elsewhere. As I approached my steps, there she was, laying in the middle of the sidewalk. Someone is getting brave. And just in case I got past her, each kitten was sitting on a step poised and ready to be momma's backup. Great. Just what I need. An army of mean felines. Bring it on, BEAST. Bring. It. On.
Making loud noises and kicking rocks her way didn't phase her. She never broke eye contact. Oh, you're good. But I have something better. As I prepped myself to spray in her general vicinity, hoping to not hurt her too badly, she lunged at me and I being the big brave human that I am...lost my marbles. I screamed, threw the pepper spray into a nearby bush, and took off at a dead run to the safety of my car where I hid for an hour until I watched her walk around the corner with babies in tow so that I could sneak into my house.
So not only is she a food snob, she's freaking vicious! Oh, and also? She's totally a whore. Those kittens are all different colors. I'm just saying...
But not without finding what he deemed a suitable alternative. Within days of the incident, I was heavily armed with every size of pepper spray that they make (including two cans for each purse I own and an industrial one for my apartment), wasp spray, and a baseball bat that would intimidate Ken Griffey, Jr.!
While these all sound like fantastic weapons for the single city gal like myself, it turns out that I'm not so great in moments of crisis. Enter Mean Momma Cat Who Wants To Kill Me – we'll call her THE BEAST for short. After a few days back in my apartment and a lot of sleepless nights clinging to the phone and pepper spray just waiting to be murdered, I was on my way to work when I heard something rustling in the bushes underneath my stairs. Upon further investigation, I discovered that the stray cat I had occasionally seen around the complex was a proud new momma to four adorable bundles of furry cuteness.
Not wanting to scare her away or make her feel threatened, I immediately ran back upstairs and poured a bowl full of milk, a bowl full of water, and opened a fresh can of tuna and laid them out for her to feast on while I was busy at work trying to cure the world of cancer. Move over, Mother Teresa! I was so proud of my amazing humanitarian spirit and left with an extra spring in my step. Until I returned home that evening and saw that she hadn't touched the amazing meal I had made for her.
Hmmm...maybe she didn't know it was all the way up here on the landing. And after all, she had just given birth and was probably exhausted. I barely have the energy to climb those 15 steps after a long day at the office, for Pete's sake! Sorry sweet, precious momma cat. I shall right my wrong tomorrow morning!
Day 2: Repeat the day 1 menu, except this time put it down on her level so that she can get to it. Yes, that should do. She's going to love me, of this I am certain! Look at me, taking care of the lost souls on this Earth...feline or otherwise. I love that cat and her cute babies!
Day 3: After returning home to the same result of untouched food and beverage I had so diligently provided, I thought maybe she didn't like the menu. Not a tuna fan? Understandable. I'll try New England Clam Chowder. Who doesn't like clam chowder?? I'm a VEGETARIAN and I could eat the stuff by the bucket! She'll surely love this.
Day 4: She hates my cooking! For being a really skinny, abandoned stray cat with babies to feed, momma cat is quite the picky eater! I guess I'll try again tomorrow.
Day 5: That b**** just tried to kill me! Okay, so kill might be a strong word, but she definitely hissed and clawed and lunged at me with her sharp teeth this morning as I tried to get down the stairs and to the parking lot. Listen here, Miss Thang, I live here. I am allowed to go up and down the stairs whenever I feel like it. And yes, while your babies are very cute, I do not want them. Nor do I wish them any harm. Kapeesh?
Evening of Day 5: Apparently you can't reason with a ferile momma cat.
Day 10: After ten days of having to wait her out morning, noon, and night just to get in and out of my home without being attacked, I broke down and called Animal Control. 'Yes, hello, I have an issue with having a very protective mean momma cat under my stairs who claws and lunges and almost bites me every day. I don't want her to be hurt, but do you take them to a shelter or anything?' Woman who gets paid way too much to do way too little at Animal Control: 'We don't catch cats. If you can get it in a box, we'll come for it, but we won't put it in a box for you.' Me: 'But you're Animal Control.' Her: 'Yeah, but we don't do that. Get a box and put her in it.' Me: 'She tries to attack me every day for literally just walking – I don't think she'll get into a box for me.' Her: 'Sorry. Good luck with that.' Click. Really? REALLY??! You're Animal Control. You control the animals. I have an out of control animal. This is clearly your territory!!!
Day 15: This has gotten REALLY old. Spraying water on her just pisses her off, laying a towel over the stairs just gives her added incentive to claw through it and get to my lovely skin, and animal control is still sticking to their 'you get her in a box and we'll come pick her up' plan. So I begrudgingly decided to try one of Papa Higdon's tactics. Late that evening, as I was walking from the parking lot to my apartment, I decided to have my pepper spray handy. I still didn't want to hurt her, but maybe if I just scared her enough, she would make her home elsewhere. As I approached my steps, there she was, laying in the middle of the sidewalk. Someone is getting brave. And just in case I got past her, each kitten was sitting on a step poised and ready to be momma's backup. Great. Just what I need. An army of mean felines. Bring it on, BEAST. Bring. It. On.
Making loud noises and kicking rocks her way didn't phase her. She never broke eye contact. Oh, you're good. But I have something better. As I prepped myself to spray in her general vicinity, hoping to not hurt her too badly, she lunged at me and I being the big brave human that I am...lost my marbles. I screamed, threw the pepper spray into a nearby bush, and took off at a dead run to the safety of my car where I hid for an hour until I watched her walk around the corner with babies in tow so that I could sneak into my house.
So not only is she a food snob, she's freaking vicious! Oh, and also? She's totally a whore. Those kittens are all different colors. I'm just saying...
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