simon – a tribute
simon was a crazed cat, a unique cat, an evil cat. we had a love/hate relationship. i tried to loved him, he just hated me. simon, you’ll be missed.
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i’m waking up at 8am. i’m in my usual routine of stumbling to the bathroom, shaving, taking a shower, and returning to my room to get dressed. only this time i forget to shut my door when i left for the shower. i know before i enter my room that i’m in for trouble. i know this from previous mistakes like this. i know that what i’m about to see will ruin my morning. i know that that first cigarette and coffee are a long way away right now. something doesn’t feel right. something doesn’t look right. and something definitely doesn’t smell right. i’m scared, i’m pissed, i’m tired, i’m hungry, and i’m soaking wet. these things will not help the situation i’m about to walk into. nobody else is home, which is good for them. nobody else will hear the roar of hatred coming out of my throat in less than 10 seconds. but then, nobody else to soon share my pain and misery with. my mind tries to play tricks on me, like: “maybe you’re tired and not seeing things right” and “maybe your sense of smell hasn’t quite kicked in yet this morning” and “there is no way that anything bad could have happened during the 7 minutes (max) that it took you to shower and shave.” i know better than this, i just know.
creeping towards my room on my tiptoes, still dripping wet. staying close to the wall, shadows will give my presence away. i need to catch the bastard cat in the act, i need to see his face when he’s caught. i need to see him sit and wonder for a moment before attempting an explanation or escape. and i need to reach my spray bottle so frigging bad.
i’m close now. i’m inches away from my door. i can hear purring and chewing. i can hear the smacking of lips and the crazed purring is pounding and echoing through my head now. is it possible that i’m smelling dirt? in one quick motion i enter my room and close the door, my back against it now as i stare down at the floor near my window.
i’m looking at a cat. i’m looking at a cat that is now very much in trouble. i’m looking at a cat that has decided the following would be a good idea:
1) knock down a 3 foot marijuana plant from a shelf on my window.
2) proceed to tear the plant out of the pot and onto the floor
3) chew the leaves and stems from this plant
4) do this all before some crazed, naked and soaking wet body comes into the room.
i’m looking at a cat that has just realized he is in deep shit.
we’ve both been through this routine before, so the cat knows that i’ll take a few deep breaths, then calmly head for the spray bottle on the desk. during this time he’ll attempt to find a hiding spot in a mad frenzy, most likely with leaves still half chewed and hanging from his lips. But today things are different. this crazy feline decides that what he did was not enough, and perhaps if he could quickly drag the plant via his mouth, under my bed, he could sit and eat it in eternal ecstasy. yes, this is what he has decided to do while looking at me. So as i walk to my spray bottle i’m watching a drugged-up black ball of rat-bastard fur drag my marijuana plant under my bed. i never figured him for this, so all i could do was watch in utter amazement.
the cat is fortunate i’m not depending on this plant for its monetary value. while perhaps valuable it also happens to be a cool looking plant. cool looking as long as half the leaves are not chewed and dangling from the stem. the cat of course had thought i was growing this plant for his benefit only. he also figured that tearing it apart was what i wanted him to be doing. while i will admit he has had a fair amount of success in the shredding of my plant, i by no means condone it. it should also be mentioned that in my bedroom/greenhouse he has not attempted to chew the fucking life out of any other plant, ever. while i appreciate the restraint on his part for not doing the same to each of my other plants, i wouldn’t mind if he chose one of my other plants that IS easily replaceable.
some mornings i open my bedroom door to him sitting outside, just waiting for me to open up shop for him. door gets opened, he gets up and starts walking toward me, i shut the door and he looks at me all confused. me saying: “not a chance in fuck i’m letting you in here.” him thinking i said: “well shit cat, i didn’t realize you were out here, come on in here and terrorize the fuck out of my weed while i jump in the shower.”
things that made me contemplate discontinuing the weed growing: now clothed in just boxers i attempt to clean up his mess. i’m on my hands and knees at 8:15 in the morning sweeping dirt into a dust pan in just my underwear. i’m no closer to that first cup of coffee, and at this point it will have to be a grande. i’m moving a bed and attempting to reach that last bit of plant that he managed to hide. i’m doing this all while he has the audacity to prance around me waiting for me to forget about part of it, and i swear to frig he’s smiling at me during each pass. oh simon, keep smiling you bastard hell-cat, just be glad you’re so damn cute.
things that made me discontinue this morning clean up routine after forgetting to close my door: simon moved to vt and got eaten by a bigger cat. a harsh reality.
simon, the memories.
------------
i’m waking up at 8am. i’m in my usual routine of stumbling to the bathroom, shaving, taking a shower, and returning to my room to get dressed. only this time i forget to shut my door when i left for the shower. i know before i enter my room that i’m in for trouble. i know this from previous mistakes like this. i know that what i’m about to see will ruin my morning. i know that that first cigarette and coffee are a long way away right now. something doesn’t feel right. something doesn’t look right. and something definitely doesn’t smell right. i’m scared, i’m pissed, i’m tired, i’m hungry, and i’m soaking wet. these things will not help the situation i’m about to walk into. nobody else is home, which is good for them. nobody else will hear the roar of hatred coming out of my throat in less than 10 seconds. but then, nobody else to soon share my pain and misery with. my mind tries to play tricks on me, like: “maybe you’re tired and not seeing things right” and “maybe your sense of smell hasn’t quite kicked in yet this morning” and “there is no way that anything bad could have happened during the 7 minutes (max) that it took you to shower and shave.” i know better than this, i just know.
creeping towards my room on my tiptoes, still dripping wet. staying close to the wall, shadows will give my presence away. i need to catch the bastard cat in the act, i need to see his face when he’s caught. i need to see him sit and wonder for a moment before attempting an explanation or escape. and i need to reach my spray bottle so frigging bad.
i’m close now. i’m inches away from my door. i can hear purring and chewing. i can hear the smacking of lips and the crazed purring is pounding and echoing through my head now. is it possible that i’m smelling dirt? in one quick motion i enter my room and close the door, my back against it now as i stare down at the floor near my window.
i’m looking at a cat. i’m looking at a cat that is now very much in trouble. i’m looking at a cat that has decided the following would be a good idea:
1) knock down a 3 foot marijuana plant from a shelf on my window.
2) proceed to tear the plant out of the pot and onto the floor
3) chew the leaves and stems from this plant
4) do this all before some crazed, naked and soaking wet body comes into the room.
i’m looking at a cat that has just realized he is in deep shit.
we’ve both been through this routine before, so the cat knows that i’ll take a few deep breaths, then calmly head for the spray bottle on the desk. during this time he’ll attempt to find a hiding spot in a mad frenzy, most likely with leaves still half chewed and hanging from his lips. But today things are different. this crazy feline decides that what he did was not enough, and perhaps if he could quickly drag the plant via his mouth, under my bed, he could sit and eat it in eternal ecstasy. yes, this is what he has decided to do while looking at me. So as i walk to my spray bottle i’m watching a drugged-up black ball of rat-bastard fur drag my marijuana plant under my bed. i never figured him for this, so all i could do was watch in utter amazement.
the cat is fortunate i’m not depending on this plant for its monetary value. while perhaps valuable it also happens to be a cool looking plant. cool looking as long as half the leaves are not chewed and dangling from the stem. the cat of course had thought i was growing this plant for his benefit only. he also figured that tearing it apart was what i wanted him to be doing. while i will admit he has had a fair amount of success in the shredding of my plant, i by no means condone it. it should also be mentioned that in my bedroom/greenhouse he has not attempted to chew the fucking life out of any other plant, ever. while i appreciate the restraint on his part for not doing the same to each of my other plants, i wouldn’t mind if he chose one of my other plants that IS easily replaceable.
some mornings i open my bedroom door to him sitting outside, just waiting for me to open up shop for him. door gets opened, he gets up and starts walking toward me, i shut the door and he looks at me all confused. me saying: “not a chance in fuck i’m letting you in here.” him thinking i said: “well shit cat, i didn’t realize you were out here, come on in here and terrorize the fuck out of my weed while i jump in the shower.”
things that made me contemplate discontinuing the weed growing: now clothed in just boxers i attempt to clean up his mess. i’m on my hands and knees at 8:15 in the morning sweeping dirt into a dust pan in just my underwear. i’m no closer to that first cup of coffee, and at this point it will have to be a grande. i’m moving a bed and attempting to reach that last bit of plant that he managed to hide. i’m doing this all while he has the audacity to prance around me waiting for me to forget about part of it, and i swear to frig he’s smiling at me during each pass. oh simon, keep smiling you bastard hell-cat, just be glad you’re so damn cute.
things that made me discontinue this morning clean up routine after forgetting to close my door: simon moved to vt and got eaten by a bigger cat. a harsh reality.
simon, the memories.
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