They Called Him Assh*le! A Savage Feline Tale About One Mean Cat! Part 1

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This story was told partly by me and partly by my brother Matt. So so since it’s my job to prosecute the innocent and protect the guilty – let the blame fall on who it may be telling this short yarn. 
I love Dodo it’s s a page that comes up on my Facebook and Instagram news feeds. Dodo usually runs stories about rescued pets or pets that are just plain cute. My favorite stories are about cats. 
Let me set the record straight I am Cat Person. I love them. They are independent, affectionate and pretty easy to take care of.  A little Cat litter and Cat Chow and there you go. Easy. My wife is a dog person and we now have two dogs named Camille and Roxy. We used to have a cat named Lady who sadly got too old and sick so she had to be put down. My wife doesn’t understand why I love cats – so let me explain. 
I have been lucky enough to have had several cats in my lifetime ranging from good to wonderful. But there was one little monster that made my brother’s life and mine just miserable when we were kids. 
He was a wretched beast we lived in terror of- The beast’s name was Hannibal and he was a cat. But we called him Asshole. 
Asshole wasn’t just a cat. He was a creature disguised as a domestic beast. And a beast he was. He was a minion of of the Devil, a demon, a Disciple of Satan who might as well had the numbers 666 tattooed on his forehead! 
Well why  did we hate Asshole so much you may ask? 
Asshole was an orange Tabby who to the untrained eye looked like a normal cat. But woe to him who fell for his innocent looks. Asshole had a modus operandi of snuggling close to his victim, purring loudly and nuzzling one’s cheek. Once close he’d sink his fangs into unprotected flesh and bite really F*cking Hard! Once anchored he’d hold on trying to get his teeth to meet in one’s tender flesh –  unlike the typical Cat Bite and Run. The victim – usually me or my brother – would scream, dance maddly about, waving our arms and try to dislodge this sadistic beast as it growled orgasmically as it continued to gnaw one’s flesh. Eventually like a Pit Bull – Asshole would let go – when he was good and ready!
To make matters even more deplorable Asshole loved to attack his victims at night when they were sleeping. This meant my brother and I would have to take preemptive measures to assure we got a little rest during bedtime. Such measures included :  You had to make sure you slept under a blanket with your head covered, you never reached for anything on the floor or near your bed when it was dark, if you had to go to the bathroom – Tough! You had to hold your bladder until it was light outside or you took your chances, if you felt something by your feet on the bed you had to move away from it as far as possible – since it was probably Asshole waiting to pounce. 

Schoolmates at good old Farmstead High School would often ask me questions like “Chuck, Whatever happened to your face? What happened to your hand? Why do your shoes stink like cat pee?” My Answer would invariably be “Asshole.” This usually got me dark looks and shakes of the head. But who would believe me? So I would just clam up and hope no one would question me further.  Anyway my responses didn’t win me any popularity contests as kids thought I was just being a moody jerk. 
You see Asshole had the world hood winked. To my brother and I – Asshole was a Monster but to the rest of the world he was just this sweet orange Tabby my Mom called “Hannibal.” 
Often my Mom’s friends would come over to our apartment to visit and just had to pet that “sweet cat.” This would cause Matt and I to have almost hysterics. “Don’t do that!” we’d cry  “It’s a trick!” Again people would shake their heads and say “What’s the matter with you boys!” “This is a nice cat.”  Our responses to these statements were usually barks of laughter as Asshole would walk past in a self satisfied strut,  flicking his tail at us in derision. Yeah he was telling us to f*ck off and giving us the cat equivalent of the Bronx Cheer. Later my Mom would confide in us that her friends thought we had “emotional problems.” Good Grief! 
We decided at one point to sit down with Mom and try to convince her that we needed to 86 Asshole. We knew it would be a hard sell as she seemed to be fond of the Little Bastard so a breakfast “intervention” was planned.
Breakfast was usually an abysmal meal that consisted having to consume  another nauseas bowl of a cereal called “Honey Combe.” Now at one point in my life  I had actually liked the stuff but that was five years ago. Since then it was Five Years of us begging Mom to please, please buy some other cereal other than that fucking Honey Combe!!! But she’d go to the local market and come back with another box of… HONEY COMBE! 
Anyway we figured we’d strike early in the morning before she went to her librarian job at the local Junior College. Hopefully she’d be tired and more open to our case against Asshole. 

Boys : “Mom please get rid of Asshole!” 

Mom: Starting to put on her make up. “I told you Boys we are just dating.” 

Boys : “No! Not HIM! THE CAT!!!” 

Mom: “Oh?! You Boys are being Ridiculous. Hannibal is a lovely cat.”

Boys:???!!!! 

Mom : “You Boys are probably too rough with him.”

Boys: “No! No! No!”

Matt: (wailing) “Asshole Bites Us!”

Me: (Screeching) “Hannibal scratches us!” 

Matt: “He’s got Fangs out to here!” (holding his hands 3 feet from his face). 

Me: “Mom look at my scratched face!” (pointing to a recent laceration). 

Matt: “His name is Asshole! Shut up Charlie, no one cares about your dumb face?!” Matt slings some dry Honey Combe at me. 

Mom: “His name is Hannibal!” 

Me: “It’s Asshole!” “You shut up Dude… You’re the one being a Dumb Stupid!” I sling Honey Combe back at him. 

Matt : “Who’s Stupid?! You’re the Stupid Asshole Charlie!” 

Charlie: “I’m calling STUPID Stupid!” You  Backbiting Stupid Asshole! “

Mom: “Charlie! Matthew! Boys!”

Boys:???!!!

A moment of silence. And then…

Me: Muttering. ” Anyway besides my face – between The Cat and Matt SNORING I can’t get any sleep.”

Matt:” I DON’T SNORE!!!  You want to know why I can’t get any SLEEP Charlie?! Mom! Guess who’s beating the meat every night in bed?!”

Mom:” Beats What?! “

Me: Turning Crimson with embarrassed rage. SHUT UP YOU LITTLE TWERP! I’M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS!” I pitch Honey Combe back at him in rage. 

Matt: (cackling wildly) “Eh! Eh! Eh!!!” 

Me: “You’re a bigger Asshole than ASSHOLE!”

Mom:” His name is Hannibal! What gets beaten? Not the Cat?! “

Me:” To hell with THE CAT Mom! MOM – MATTS’ GAY!!!”

Mom: “He’s Gay?!” Thunderstruck. 

Matt:”Whaaat?! I’m not Gay!” 

Me:” Oh Yeah?! Why do spend so much time locked in our bathroom with THOSE “TIGER BEAT” MAGAZINES ?! ” I sneered. 

Matt:.” I’m Reading! And..  Sputtering… and …and…OH, F*CK YOU! F*ck you very much Charlie! And.. And… F*CK THAT… THAT STUPID ASSHOLE CAT!!! 

At this point Honey Combe now sails across the table simultaneously in both directions – like cannons on ships firing broadsides at each other! 

Mom: (Now standing. A quivering tower of English Rage!) “HIS. NAME. IS. HANN-I-BAL!! “

Boys: (In unison and pounding fists on the table) “IT’S ASSHOLE! ASSHOLE! ASSSSSSSHOLLLLLLLE!!!”

More and more Honey Combe gets slung. The kitchen table begins to resemble the legendary 1805 Battle of Trafalgar! The din is terrific as all parties are hysterically screaming or hurling insults and breakfast cereal at each other. The Curse Words and Accusations become unintelligible gibberish! Neighbors begin to pound on our walls in anger to “SHUT UP!” 
Suddenly Mom gets hit in the crossfire with a big splat of milk and cereal on her new I. Magnins blouse.

Boys: “Gasp! “oops…uh oh…” 

And then all is quiet. You could have heard a pin drop or the paint drying on the walls. 

Mom: ( Bespattered with Honey Combe – Looks at us and gives an exasperated imperious sniff) “His name is Hannibal. And..He has never bitten me. So he stays. Now eat your Honey Combe.”

CASE CLOSED. INTERVENTION OVER!! 
End of Part One.

To be continued…

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