Saturday, April 23, 2011

A Feral Cat is Loose in My Parents' House or Why My Sister Needs Ice Cream Cake

My husband just told me that from this week alone we've got at least four good episodes of reality TV. Why a camera crew hasn't shown up on my doorstep is beyond me because we'd be a hit.

Staying at my parents' house right now we've got my sister and her family because their house isn't ready and their lease was up. Then we have my aunt, uncle, three cousins and my one cousin's boyfriend who is very cute I must add. My grandparents, WHO LIVE HERE, decided they'd come and stay for a week too, in spite of having their own home nearby, because they wanted to be close to everyone else for Passover. Then my mom's brother, who is in every way the complete and total opposite of my father's orthodox Jewish, Israeli family, came down with his wife to sit in beachy bars, go fishing and complain about the government.

Mayhem people. Mayhem.

On top of it all, there is a feral cat loose in my parents' house.

Yes, you heard me. A feral cat is loose in the house as if fifteen guests is not enough to deal with. We're going to need to take up a collection to send my mother to a fancy spa far far away when Passover ends.


The feral cat is my sister's fault. At her old job some of her regulars told her they had a cat that needed a home and for some reason she committed to taking the cat sight unseen. Once she saw the cat, she realized it was feral and completely unable to be tamed, but she felt uncomfortable changing her mind and telling the people who had trapped the cat in their yard that it would not make a good pet. So she took a feral cat home with her where it has hid under her bed for a year. This is an important lesson in why it's ok to say no to people sometimes.


I came up with a decent solution based on a secret, covert activity we used to engage in when I worked at the country club. Back there, in the fancy country club we had a terrible rat infestation. This is natural. It's Florida. The place was built on swampland. Rats abounded. The best solution for getting rid of rats is cats because poison isn't healthy, especially with all the kids around, and when we tried poison it never seemed to work and we were scared a child or a pet might be injured. Along with the rats, we also had a pretty healthy wild cat population, so we decided that instead of trapping the cats, taking them away, euthanizing them or whatever, that we would keep the cats, fix them and notch their ears so we'd know which ones we'd done already. We had to do this under the cover of darkness so none of the residents would know that we had both wild cats and enormous rats living around their gazillion dollar mansions because that would have sent them into paroxysms of horror that would have split the skin of their Botoxed faces. The whole thing worked magnificently. The cats hid, they didn't breed and they ate all the rats and the residents glided by in their Jaguars on their way to tennis lessons never knowing that this was happening right under their rhinoplasty.


I thought that my sister's feral cat would be much happier if when my sister moved to her house that we just let it outside. It could live outside around our yards and eat rats of which there are an astonishing number, as we live on an island and rats love water.


We didn't anticipate my sister having to live with my mom and the feral cat having to live in my parents' house with two dogs and fifteen terrifying human beings all eating matzoh and singing in Hebrew. It was too much for the cat, who my sister tried to keep in her bedroom. The cat escaped.


Escaped feral cat + dogs + fifteen people + loud music at all hours + crying babies + God only knows what else goes on in that gigantic house = missing cat.


No one has seen the cat in a week. I suggested they wait for a smell. This suggestion was not well received.


My sister set out food. They found some poop on a chair upstairs but only once. They searched high and low and no cat. Finally, they decided to get a humane trap, put food in it because the cat has got to get hungry at some point and maybe late at night it will feel safe coming out to get something to eat.


The trap has been baited for several days now and no cat.


Last night I went over there and took my sister an ice cream cake. Don't even ask. I just felt that having to live over there in the midst of all that, with a baby, that she probably really needed an ice cream cake at 11 at night. Don't you wish I was your sister? So I drop the cake off and leave and figure she's in bed and I didn't want to wake her baby up and cause another ruckus. That house is like one big ruckus anyway. It didn't need another one.


I'm in bed and my sister starts texting me that as soon as I left a ruckus happened anyway in spite of my valiant efforts to prevent one. This ruckus had nothing to do with me.


Something got caught in the trap.


The something was Bombaclaat, my parents' thirteen year old, half blind mini-pin and one of the most disgusting animals to ever grace this planet. He stinks, humps stuffed animals, bites, can't see or hear and is an all around idiot, but we love him. The dog lives for nothing but food. Seeing the cat food in the trap, he went right in. The trap closed and he didn't realized anything was amiss until he had eaten a whole can of cat food and tried to turn around and found himself unable. Then he began to scream and yell until everyone came running. When they opened the trap, he was too stupid to figure out how to get out of it, so they had to take the whole thing apart because he couldn't understand that he needed to back up to get free.


The trap is set again. Bombaclaat, we hope, won't be able to get near it. We figure that trap is going to catch everything BUT the cat. Big Joe'll probably get his head stuck in it next. We might even trap my grandmother, who has been driving everyone in the house nuts about wasting food and has been living in the kitchen overseeing everything that comes in and out in order to prevent an accidental breach of Passover food laws. My sister informed me that yesterday she spent six solid hours in there trying to make a cake without flour, wheat or leavening and that the resulting product looked vaguely cake-ish because it was baked in a cake pan, but that it was so tough, yellow and tasteless that it resembled a kitchen sponge. My sister didn't want to eat it so I told her to tear a piece of it off and use it to wipe down the counters instead. My grandmother would probably mistake cat food for chopped liver and fear that it was going to waste so she'd end up caught in the trap trying to get it out to smear on matzoh along with some solidified chicken fat.


Who knows what else is living in that house that no one knows about and that could make its way into the trap. We just know, that with our luck, it's not going to be the missing cat. That cat might end up lost in my parents' house forever.

4 comments:

FreeDragon said...

I think the cat probably slipped outside and is now happily eating rats. Since that was the plan all along, I wouldn't worry about it anymore. The cat is probably laughing at you right now.

KTLR (on twitter) said...

I love that you TNRed the cats in the fancy gated community! Awesome :)

Laurie said...

"...paroxysms of horror that would have split the skin of their Botoxed faces." You are so, SO funny! Your last paragraph about your grandmother and the trap gave me the tears-running-down-your- face,-every-time-you-think-of-it-you-start-laughing-again kind of laugh that I REALLY needed today.
Thanks! :D

rosie-b said...

Love this post! I wish your parents really would get their own reality show because I would definitely watch.

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