Murder. Murder most foul. The woman that I (sometimes admit that I) love is likely responsible for the deaths of an entire family of stray cats. She displayed a chilling lack of common decency in her nefarious plot to destroy them. Okay, maybe that's not really how it happened, but it was an interesting chain of events that led me to be able to somewhat factually type the title of this post.
It was Sunday afternoon, and I was lounging on the couch drinking and enjoying some NFL football while Shannon made lunch. (It's kind of a tradition of ours that she doesn't know about yet, and is one of the reasons our relationship works so well.) Our little burden of joy was with his grandma for the weekend, and so we enjoyed a weekend of each others' company uninterrupted by random screaming...for a while.
I heard her heart melting over in the kitchen over a family of stray cats she could apparently see in the alley behind my home...more specifically, the litter of tiny, adorable kittens milling around near their ugly old fat momma. (Those kittens did NOT want to have a "mother joke" session with this guy.) The alley was also home to a large Rottweiler pacing around in his owner's yard. This is mentioned for reasons that will soon become apparent, perhaps before I even tell you.
Anyway, she was going on and on about how small and sweet and cute they were, but the game was winning the battle for my attention...not that that's a fair fight. I think she detected that, because she eventually pretty much demanded that I come over and look at the kitties. (She could legally take my attention away from the game because it wasn't my team's game...otherwise, I could have sued her for breach of the contract I made her sign.) I obliged her and peeked at them with almost some interest...huh, they were pretty cute. Not cute enough to avoid their eventual fate, though.
I went back to my flop zone, determined to pay pussies in general no more mind until the game was over. I kinda heard some woman-sounds expressing some concern for one kitty in particular wandering around the Rottie's yard, apparently curious about what that large, dangerous-looking black-and-brown creature with all the teeth was...but then I reread that first sentence and switched my attention back to football. (I was watching the Panthers, so at least we were kinda on the same wavelength.) That's when I heard some barking, a bit of cat struggle, and a series of bloodcurdling shrieks, those from my tag-team partner. I sprang into action, rocketing over to her side because hearing her shout and not being on top of the situation makes me a bad boyfriend any way you read it.
As my couch leap sent me sailing closer to her, I could finally make out what she was so concerned about. The dummy of the kitty litter had finally wandered into the dog's yard, and was about to get a tough lesson in how food chains work. "OHMIGODGETTHECATSAVETHECATGETTHECAT!!!", Shannon wailed out the window like a lunatic, brandishing the spatula she was holding like a magic wand that could teleport the doomed cat to safety.
Luckily, her loud chanting and waving somehow made the dog's owner appear. He peeled the dog off the kitten before Shannon saw something that made her not want to cook anymore and upset us both. He shooed the cat back to its' family. She expressed how happy she was to have saved the dippy kitty's life, but I saw a more ominous sign...now the guy was on the phone, staring directly at the cats the entire time. I could make out some of what he was saying..."kittens"..."crazy lady"..."screaming like she was having a heart attack"..."SPCA"..."pickup"...uh-oh.
Today, I checked the alley to see if the cats were still out there...they were not. This could only mean one thing...the keywords I had picked out of the phone conversation yesterday had combined into a search term for Animal Control. That's right, because my woman saw fit to fuck around with natural selection, the entire family was picked up by the pound, likely to be put down just as quickly (unless somebody adopts all of them in the next 16 hours or so).
Her intent was noble, but the result was what it was. My girlfriend is a--albeit indirect--cat killer...at least, that's what I've been telling her. Sure, she tried to save one cat, and I'm sure she'll trot that out to defend herself, but that cat and the rest of its' family were taken to kitty concentration camp, and it was all her fault.
It was kind of shocking at first...but then, this is the woman who brought our infant child to a strange facility where our infant child was stabbed with a sharp object by a masked stranger. Once I realized that, it all made sense (well, as much sense as anything I ever think). Shame on you, yellow girl.