Comments (1)

  1. Byron Pratt


    You’ve probably gotten a few of these already, but here’s yet another one. I (more or less) have a huge black cat with a white spot right where bat cat has its. The spot doesn’t look like anything tho and otherwise she has beautiful medium length black hair. She’s called ‘Satan’. Not my fault. She was abandoned here at the apt complex and we sort of adopted one another and I was told that that was her name. Kinda fit. At first she would shred stuff at times; towels, a t-shirt that wasn’t even fit to be rags when she was done. She really did not appreciate being left alone inside. I certainly shed some blood. The solution was a make-shift cat door. I have window screens that are hinged on the top and one never latched well. So I opened the window enough and showed her how to push the screen open, which she got immediately. I was used to letting her in and out (never had a litter box), so now I would only have to let her in. Except that she also immediately figured out all by herself how to pull the screen open and sort of ooze back in. Well, neat! With a slight drawback. She is now free to bring me presents. Some geckos (dead, else I wouldn’t have found them), a small snake once (not dead), birds (mostly not dead, except for one that she was eating because she was pissed at me). And, of course, 3 bats (dead, thankfully). [I live in Austin right next to the largest urban bat colony in the world.] This one is a problem because, well, rabies. With the first one I did the right thing and called animal control. This was, swear to God, on Halloween 3 years ago. So they test the bat and of course it was rabid. Well, oops. Cat has to get shots. I have to get shots (got stupid and tried to see if is was alive; five, count ’em! for the first go round). The most problematic thing was the cat had to be quarantined for months, something that Satan would never put up with. Now, since I don’t officially (according to the apt mgr) own the cat, they were after me. And since animal control would not allow me to do cat walkies (remember, still no litter box), which I can absolutely do with this cat, well something had to give. So, soon I had to give her up to animal control. Put her in the tiny little cage myself. Boo hoo. This was Nov. So imagine my surprise when, 11 months later, I open my apt and guess who’s sitting there going meow. It could NOT be any other cat. Same medium length black hair, same white spot and besides, she knew how to get in. I have a good theory about this, but I have never really wanted to be certain. So, Satan still brings me stuff from time to time. Two more bats, which this time I just shut up and flushed them. And, interestingly, a bird’s wing, in perfect shape. That one I’ve kept. And Satan has a new nickname: Snake Plissken (I thought you was dead!).

    [I swear this is true]

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published.