Damn cats
Registered User
Joined: Nov 2002
Posts: 1,774
Likes: 1
From: Socal
I saw "cat" in the thread, and thought I would repost an incident that occured a while ago. Its a copy and paste. Hope you enjoy it.
So Im washing my new S2000, atending to every detail in a most loving, careful manner. My cousin is watching me. he is not allowed to help. THATS how anal Im being. C'mon, new car, you know?
Im cleaning the underneath of the front license plate, in a position usually reserved for women of low morals, when my cousin suddenly gurgles and spits out half his soda.
"Dude! The cat!!!"
I look up and Im already going into full-kill mode. I don't like cats. I lauged for six months when I saw that Nokia commercial, get the picture?
So I look over the hood of my gleaming, freshly sanitized S2000, and see a cat. A CAT!!! A cat on my ROOF! My freshly washed SOFT TOP!!!!! A cat that could be digging its nasty little claws into my soft black vinyl!
Oh, damn, full-kill mode came and went in a second. I was G. W Bush the second. Cat-sama glared at me, daring me to say, or do something. I could see the little shit just waiting for an excuse to rip apart my soft top.
In one single fluid movement that was later likened by my cousin to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers defensive line's finest superbowl endeavours, I dipped, scooped, and came up with 3 pounds of wet, soapy, dripping wash-mit. The cat saw me dip, and tensed. She knew she was playing with fire. But she didnt falter. Bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, time for the big one.
Faster than the streak of lightning that knocked erstwhile Pro Golfer Lee Trevino not once, but twice, on his backside and into a bunker, I slung that wash mit straight at the cat. Faster than any Scud, truer than any bunker buster, the mit caught Cat-sama square in the face, wrapping itself around the little buggers face and legs. The cats instinctive reaction to turn and run was molasses slow. I scored a perfect ten, as the cat slingshotted off the roof of my car. The hit was so perfect that it didnt even get a chance to put out the claws and scar the precious soft-top.
Whumpfffffffffff...............thud............scr abble, pat pat pat.
Whumpfff: Cat getting completely bitchslapped/owned/blasted/mutilated by wash mit.
Thud: cat-mit (they were completely tangled, and I couldnt tell one from the other) lands on trunk.
Scrabble: Cat, claws out and twisting for dear life........lands on its feet on the ground.
Pat pat pat: the cat ran for its life as though all the coalition armies were after it.
Oz:1, Cat:0.
It was my finest hour.
The cat was fine, all you animal fuzzies.
But it never came near my S2000 again.
So Im washing my new S2000, atending to every detail in a most loving, careful manner. My cousin is watching me. he is not allowed to help. THATS how anal Im being. C'mon, new car, you know?
Im cleaning the underneath of the front license plate, in a position usually reserved for women of low morals, when my cousin suddenly gurgles and spits out half his soda.
"Dude! The cat!!!"
I look up and Im already going into full-kill mode. I don't like cats. I lauged for six months when I saw that Nokia commercial, get the picture?
So I look over the hood of my gleaming, freshly sanitized S2000, and see a cat. A CAT!!! A cat on my ROOF! My freshly washed SOFT TOP!!!!! A cat that could be digging its nasty little claws into my soft black vinyl!
Oh, damn, full-kill mode came and went in a second. I was G. W Bush the second. Cat-sama glared at me, daring me to say, or do something. I could see the little shit just waiting for an excuse to rip apart my soft top.
In one single fluid movement that was later likened by my cousin to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers defensive line's finest superbowl endeavours, I dipped, scooped, and came up with 3 pounds of wet, soapy, dripping wash-mit. The cat saw me dip, and tensed. She knew she was playing with fire. But she didnt falter. Bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, time for the big one.
Faster than the streak of lightning that knocked erstwhile Pro Golfer Lee Trevino not once, but twice, on his backside and into a bunker, I slung that wash mit straight at the cat. Faster than any Scud, truer than any bunker buster, the mit caught Cat-sama square in the face, wrapping itself around the little buggers face and legs. The cats instinctive reaction to turn and run was molasses slow. I scored a perfect ten, as the cat slingshotted off the roof of my car. The hit was so perfect that it didnt even get a chance to put out the claws and scar the precious soft-top.
Whumpfffffffffff...............thud............scr abble, pat pat pat.
Whumpfff: Cat getting completely bitchslapped/owned/blasted/mutilated by wash mit.
Thud: cat-mit (they were completely tangled, and I couldnt tell one from the other) lands on trunk.
Scrabble: Cat, claws out and twisting for dear life........lands on its feet on the ground.
Pat pat pat: the cat ran for its life as though all the coalition armies were after it.
Oz:1, Cat:0.
It was my finest hour.
The cat was fine, all you animal fuzzies.
But it never came near my S2000 again.
Registered User
Joined: Sep 2002
Posts: 146
Likes: 0
From: Plano
My aunt has 4 cats. If one cat gets more love // affection than another, the other 3 cats will pee everywhere in defiance. Hence, that is why I made the remark about cats...for the MOST part, they are what I listed above...
Registered User
Joined: Nov 2002
Posts: 37
Likes: 0
From: atlanta
you all have got it easy. my indoor/outdoor cat hurled on my roof this morning. I usually keep it covered (even though its garaged). In any event, the 303 protectant I applied a couple of weeks ago apparently did its job.
