Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Confession #5: I Kidnapped Ronald Weasley

I never took him across state lines, though. And really, I feel there was no wrong-doing on my part.

However, there does seem to be some disagreement regarding the exact circumstances.

I'll let you decide. 

My Version:

Last summer, my sister and her family went on a longish road trip and asked me to watch their pets. A dog, Dixie, who later became known only as "Idiot", and a cat, Ronald Weasley, who happens to be Severus's littermate. Having mooched resided in their basement rent-free for several months the year before, I owed them big-time. So I said no problem.

I stopped by their house a few hours after they had left to pick up the animals and add two more to the zoo at home. 

Ronald is not what you would call a good traveler. Every time Ronald gets into the car, terrible things happen. Terrible, terrible things. My sister told me to give Ronald some Benedryl.  I got a little plate and dumped some Fancy Feast onto it and shoved the pill into the middle. Normally, it would have been gone in seconds. Ronald refused to even sniff it. Now I'd have to get a little hands on. I've found butter helps pills slide down cat gullets a little easier. So, I buttered it up, held Ronald, and then I don't really remember what happened next. I didn't know where the pill went. I just knew where it wasn't. So, we drove off undrugged. Terrible, terrible things occurred.

When we pulled into the garage, I decided to re-introduce Dixie and Charlie before taking care of Ronald and his terribleness. Things went pretty well between Dixie, Charlie, and my cats. I brought Ronald in and set his carrier down on the floor and left to prepare a nice, relaxing bath. However, Ronald didn't seem to enjoy it at all. Some cats just don't appreciate amenities.

Shortly after Ronald's bath, the dogs had to go outside. After a few minutes, Dixie slipped out of his collar and proceeded to run down the sidewalk. Being an intelligent dog owner, I knew not to chase him or yell at him, but to try and catch his attention by making him think I'm doing something much more fun and interesting. And it was working. He came right up to me and I got his collar on and then, out of the blue, he had a major freak out. He started biting and scratching and peed all over  himself.......and me. That was the point at which he became "Idiot." So, two more baths were in order. 

The rest of the week and a half went much more smoothly. There was much hissing between the cats, but otherwise peaceful. With one exception. Mrs. Weasley was still just a lil thing and super playful. Her favorite game was "Sneak Attack!" She's a wee ginger ninja. And her favorite target became Ronald. Probably because of his extreme over-reaction. He's kind of a drama queen. He would jump about a foot in the air, and then get this look of hurt outrage while shouting, "Why????????????? WHY would you DO such a thing???? To ME????"

Oh, and there was the nightly mrowing outside my door. But living with Myrtle, one learns to sleep through that kind of thing.

Dixie Idiot developed a seriously annoying attachment to me. I guess peeing all over someone creates a deep feeling of adoration and adulation. The feeling was NOT mutual. 

All in all, I was very happy to return my sister's fur family at the end of their trip. And let them deal with Ronald's terrible, terrible travel aftermath. Life with a dog, a cat, a cat, a cat, a cat, a cat, and an idiot, was a bit much, even for me.

Ronald's Version (as transcribed from what he apparently thought was his video blog):

It is day 346 of my captivity. Or maybe it has only been an hour. I just don't even know. Because I am a cat. What I do know is a lady that sometimes comes over, came over. My People were not there to protect me. I now hate my People. This lady attempted to drug me. But I foiled her attempt. Twice. I am not Dog. You cannot trick me with your pills stuffed in Fancy Feast or butter. I hope my People slip on the buttered pill that I regurgitated on the floor...and die. Alas, my captor overpowered me and stuffed me into a small portable jail cell. Dog trotted along and hopped in the vehicle. Dog is an idiot.

As my captor drove off with us, I tried to soften her heart by singing the song of my people. It is a mournful dirge of 97 verses. She was unmoved. Enraged, I loosed many scathing epithets....and then....my bowels. I thought she would stop and then I would make my escape. She did not stop. My only consolation is that I made the remainder of the journey quite unpleasant for her. Dog did nothing but gaze eagerly out the window. Dog is an idiot.

We drove into a dark cavern. I was left alone for a moment as my captor took Dog somewhere. Then I felt myself being moved. I smelled much danger. She set me down. Immediately I felt a surge of hope. Ones like me surrounded my cell- surely to rescue me?

No, no. Fate is a cruel mistress. The Others hissed in mockery. Taunting. Baiting. I hate the Others. To make things worse, after the Others left Big Dog came sniffing around. But then, mercifully, my captor lifted me away. Little did I know she was about to subject me to an unspeakable hell.

Bath time.

I cannot describe the indignities. Suffice it to say, my suffering was great.

The next few hours or days or years are a blur. My captor has allowed me to wander the house...a false freedom...what with Big Dog and the Others constantly hunting me. The worst of them all is the smallest one, who, ironically, is a facsimile of myself during kittenhood. She is most vicious, employing guerrilla tactics and inducing near heart attacks at regular intervals. I continue to suffer most grievously.

One unexpected high point was when Dog showed surprising resourcefulness when he attempted an escape and viciously attacked our captor. Within hours, however, Dog succumbed to extreme Stockholm syndrome and now slavishly follows our captor about. Dog is an idiot.

I have nearly given up hope of being rescued and resign myself to a life of captivity for now. I while away the long hours of daylight hiding from my tormentors. The time is not wasted, though. I have composed a ballad of my suffering. Each night I pace the corridor of my captor's bedchamber and sing my lament.

Oh cat gods of Felinia, hear my plea!!! May my lament travel upon the Zephyr winds and reach the ears of my People.

They must save me. They must. They can leave Dog. Dog is an idiot.

It will be a joyous reunion. I shall ignore them for a while, to impress upon them my intense displeasure. But being a feline of generous nature, above pettiness, I shall, after a time, bestow upon them my forgiveness. In the form of a deceased bird. And there shall be much rejoicing and rubbing of ankles.

Now I must go. My captor is returning. She must not find me here.

If you are watching this, contact the authorities. Save me.


1 comment:

  1. Well, I will start the applause for this wonderfully penned endeavor.

    The Slow Clap


    Well done. Well done.


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