Kitten In A Can (a love story gone wrong)

The trees at my house had just been freshly toilet papered as I brought my new kitten in from the cool autumn breeze. A girl I worked with had just given me my first pet....well, not my very first one, but the first kitten in my new house I had just bought.

I had spent many hours decorating my new house and trying to turn it into a bachelor pad of the 80's. I had finished wallpapering my walls with wood colored drawer lining, and had also added some decorative fish netting that I bought from Pier 1 imports....a few more dried out starfish and a couple of shells and the place would look almost like trailer heaven...except it wasn't in a trailer, it was in a real house.

I have never in my entire life given any of the cats that I have owned a real name...they have all had the same name..."Cat".

As you all know I have a bit of a memory problem so you know to bear with me as I try to piece together the general facts of the situation...it might not be the exact situation that happened, but pretty damn close.

As the party was winding down in the wee hours of the morning, the slightly buzzed people began to leave the house...one by one they exited my simulated trailer bachelor pad until I was finally the only one left in the cozy little brick two story.

I lied there on the couch watching the ceiling spin....I quickly put my foot on the floor to ground myself, but it didn't seem to work very well. I grabbed a bucket from the kitchen and placed that by my side, just in case.

Scratch! skitter! screetch...skitter skitter!!.... meow..... "What the? what the hell is that noise?" I look around the room.....there he was...my damn kitten hanging on my wall. He had climbed himself up my bachelor pad wall hanging on the fishnet, between the shell and the dried starfish.

"You damn cat.....c'mere" I gently grab him from the wall, pull his claws off of the fishnet and set him back down on the floor.

I stumble groggily ( is that a real word?) back over to the couch, and flop down....trying to keep from throwing up. "I'll never drink this much again.....NEVER!"

Skit! skit! skit! scratch! skeeter! skit! skit! scratch!..skit!!! ......meeeeeOwww!

"WTF!! not again!!" "Allright you little furball piece of shit...that's it."

Keep in mind that I'm drunk and I just want that friggin cat to stop crawling up my walls....so logical thinking didn't apply at the time.

My eye catches a large pretzel can, similar to those large popcorn cans they sell on every major holiday, it was now empty and just waiting to be filled with a rambunctious feline.

"C'mere you damn cat....here kitty kitty" meeeeooow....."Here's a nice little cozy can for you" He slowly pokes his nose into the can and sniffs around, I shove his ass into the pretzel can as quickly as possible, slam the lid on and breathe a sigh of relief as I weave my way back to the couch.

Before I even get back to the couch, somehow that kitten had managed to flip the lid up and off of the pretzel can and jump out.

ARGH!! DAMMIT!! I chase the little ball of fur around the room trying to get it into my clutches, but he narrowly escapes me at every turn. Under the couch, under my record album shelves, into the kitchen and then finally he just stops in the middle of the room and looks up at me.

Trying to seduce me with his large sad kitty eyes. "Oh no you don't...I'm not falling for that trick!"

I grab the cat by the scruff of the neck and toss him back into the can.

This time I look around for something to hold the lid on tighter so he won't escape...."Ah HA!" a big scrap book of photos with all of my memories, this will do the trick. I put the giant book on top of the pretzel can and ooze my way over to the couch...

"BLARG!! ARGGLE!! ACK!!!" were the lovely noises and sounds that eminated from my mouth and into the bucket....thank God I hit it...and "damn...I'll NEVER drink that much again!"

Fast forward to the next morning. I feel really shitty and like I've been eating shit and even like someone just shit on me. Ugh...I can't believe I survived last night.

I look over to the pretzel can.

I stare at it for about a minute.

It's not moving.

I don't hear any sounds.

I get up from the couch and walk over to the can.

I slowly take the giant scrap book of photos off of the can.

I'm thinking that the kitten could come raging out like a banshee as soon as I open the lid....so I tip the can over.

I hear nothing. "Hmmm.....that's odd."

I get behind the tipped can and quickly flick the lid off at the same time as I jump back, hoping that the cat doesn't come flying out at me with his claws.

Nothing. Only silence.

I slowly creep around the side of the can as far away as possible....inching my way up and around to the front of the can.

"Awww...isn't that sweet....the kitty is sleeping....uh...erm...wait a sec...ACK!! NO!! HE'S DEAD OMIGOD!! I KILLED MY KITTY!! AAAAAGGGHHHH!!! NO NO NO NONO......what do I do? what do I do? what do I do? oh shit...i killed my cat....oh dam what the hell is wrong with me!! what do I do....I know....I have to get rid of the body....I have to get rid of the body........VINCE!! that's it....VINCE!! I'll call Vince...he can drive me somewhere to dump this body, this cat, this kitten!! OH SHIT!!

Upon the telling and retelling of this story many times thoughout the years, my friend Vince claims that when I called him on the telephone, I was crying. I refuse to believe this although it is highly possible considering I could have been in kitty killing shock.

I don't remember exactly what was said on the phone, but I do remember Vince's disbelief. You see, I seem to have such a reputation as a joker that many times throughout my life, people just refuse to buy into my prankster mentality. I remember trying to convince him that indeed the kitten was dead, and that he died by my intoxicated hand.

"I put him in a pretzel can!! He kept climbing up my fishnet!! He wouldn't stop!!"

I suffocated my kitty! I felt so horribly guilty. I had killed a defenseless little animal. It was such a gut wrenching feeling. I never meant to.....oh GOD!! why did I have to drink that much?!

Vince arrived at the house and we transferred the body into the trunk of his car, still in the pretzel can.

We spent about thirty minutes driving into the country, down back roads, looking around for cars that could be following us.

We finally see a nice vacant spot with no houses in sight...nothing but corn fields for miles.

We pop the trunk and throw the can, kitty and all into the roadside ditch.

End of story.

I'm not proud of being a kitty killer. It was just one of those stupid things that people do, and I can't go back and redo it.