Monday, February 22, 2010
Stupor- Punked Felines
Memories. Good ones, dull ones, funny ones, exciting ones. This will be a funny one. It occurred when you were an age of which I am not certain and when I was ten. On a late fall evening in the comforts of a certain Clearfield, PA Best Western, two cats were under the influence. What influence, you ask? Could it be owner’s love? Chopped alewife in a saucer? Catnip? For Elferd and Maimie, it was none of the above. Those cats had something in their system that made them spiral from nuts to clumsy to just plain stupid. We Norths, tired from the long haul and needing rest, had front row seats for the upcoming show and had no choice in the matter.
ACT I: The Wandering. The cats wandered every square inch of that motel room, a wandering that was slow and sluggish. Bumping into a wall, they would double back and bump into another wall. It was almost as if they were wandering to the Nutcracker tune of “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy”, but for the sake of the situation I’ll change it to “Dance of the Stupor- Punked Felines.”
ACT II: The Yowles. It was not until after we went to bed that the noise began. (Bed…what were we thinking?) At first, we kids were a bit startled, for it sounded as if we were being haunted by two deceased cat-souls.
Realizing what the noise was and in all frankness amused by it, we just tried to ignore it. Two hours passed and oh, how we longed for sleep. But it would not have anything to do with us. Thus we continued our lying and looking at the motel ceiling.
ACT III: “Mrooowwwwwer.” “Myowwwellll” “MeyoWoWoW” There was now yodeling, yodeling under the influence of whatever the vet injected them with. On top of this they were still wandering and bumping into things. Zeke, our dog at the time, was very unlucky. His peace was shattered from two cats bumping into and climbing over his frail body. Never did he have to experience this in his twelve years living with us. Thoroughly pissed-off, Zeke snapped at the cats whenever he got the chance. All of this happened under a luminous glow of the in-shining moon.
You may be wondering when the vomiting began. Well, I was getting to that. It all started ‘round one o’clock. By now Sarah, Mom, Dad, Zeke and me had abandoned all hope of sleep and were just waiting for whatever else was in store. Lying in our beds, we noticed that the yowling ceased. Yay!!! Could this mean that the show was over? Could it be? Sleep began to overcome us. Zeke began to snore quietly. The cats were somewhere else, not anywhere to be heard. All was calm on the Best Western front until we began to hear the upchucking. And you know what that sounds like, you cat owners. I needn’t put it down on paper. Let’s just say that whatever corner of the house you’re in, your head will turn to the sound and you will refuse to accept the reality of what is going down. Indeed the four of us, at that moment in the wee hours of the morning, were refusing to accept the reality. Of course, everything else started back up too, the noises and all that. So now the cats have one heck of a multitasking system going on- wandering, yowling, yodeling, and vomiting.
ACT IV: If you are not already grossed out and making a conscious choice to read on, I may as well address the beds. Two beds were in the hotel room- Sarah and Mom in one, Dad and I in the other. Elferd and Maimie decided to incorporate the beds into their show, and that they did. Only in this case they couldn’t really stay ON the beds, they would hop up, walk all over us and fall off the side. Sometimes they got it in their heads to try to leap from one bed to the other (I guess they thought they had it together enough to do so). The funny thing is, the influence they were under disallowed them from completing their leaps and they would land on the floor with a thud. There were no give-ups, for the strong will of the drugged felines kept them persistent straight on till morning.
And that’s the story of the stupor-punked felines. Truth is, we had to have them put under some kind of drug to keep them lax during our move from Connecticut to Ohio. Ironically, they were anything but relaxed.