Crazy Cat Lady Diaries – Tuvok the Terrorist

So, today started out like most days.  I had to get up, feed the cats, and run like crazy to get to work on time.  But this evening, I had plans!  Dinner out with friends and a chance to wear my new shoes!  I brown bagged lunch for almost a year, refrained from going out as much as possible and ignored one or two repairs that needed to be done around the house to save the money for these shoes.  It was something I promised myself.  My New Year’s wish.  I would own a pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes.

Black satin, four-inch heel, pointed toe, padded insole and made in Italy.  But it wasn’t just that, these shoes have shiny embellishments in a graphic geometric pattern, like shiny diamonds.  They are the shoe of shoes, as any shoe-loving person would agree.  And how awesome they looked on my feet.  My ankles looked dainty in them and no one in their right mind would call my feet dainty!

With the perfect, little, black dress and a party purse, I was ready to go!  Nothing can describe the feeling when you know you look good and every eye, man and woman, looks your way when you pass.  Nothing!

Tonight would be that night.

I got home and walked into the living room.  There on the couch was my shoebox.  I’ve been admiring them for days and practicing walking in them to break them in for tonight.  I took them out and placed them on the rug.  I loved the way the light made them shine.

Glancing at the clock, I swore then raced upstairs to feed the cats and change.  I had less than forty minutes before my friends would pick me up.  I ignored Tuvok’s meow as I placed food in his bowl.  He’d just have to wait for attention until I got home.  Moose couldn’t care less what I was doing.  He was happily eating and from the looks he was giving his brother’s bowl, contemplating eating that too.

Hurrying down the hall, I went to my room to get ready.  I pulled the dress out of my closet and set it on the bed.  Sitting down at my vanity, I got to work on cleaning off my makeup so I could refresh.  In my rush, I failed to notice I didn’t close my door all the way.  In the mirror’s reflection, I spotted Tuvok jumping up on my bed.  Initially I ignored it.  After all, it’s not the first time he’s jumped up on my bed.  Tuvok loves curling up on my pillows.

Until I watched him walk onto my dress and start digging his claws into it to make it ready for him to rest upon.  Spinning around faster than I ever have in my life, I yelled, “TUVOK!” and raced after him.  Damn cat jumped off the bed before I could reach him and scurried out the door.  I slammed the door shut then returned to the bed to examine my dress.

Just some hair I could get out with my trusty roller brush and a mark or two from his claws that a hot iron would take care of.  Cursing out the cat, I hurried to my mini ironing board and turned the iron on.  I now had less than thirty minutes to get ready.

Scrambling, I ironed out the spots, brushed off the hair and got back to my vanity to refresh my makeup.  I patted any stray hairs from my morning style back into place then went to my dresser and pulled out a pair of pantyhose.  I firmly believe men created this torture device, but no one can deny what they do for the stomach and legs.  Control top to hide the middle-age sag and the fabric evens out the color of my legs, hiding those things that happen to those of us over forty.  Taking a new pair out of the package, I wrestled myself into them.  Five minutes later, I have won the battle, but not sure about the war.

About this time, my bladder alerted me to its discomfort.  Of course!  I raced down the hall, being careful to close the door behind me, and made my way to the bathroom.  Blessed relief!  Now, here is the biggest problem with pantyhose.  You can never get the damn things back into place again!  As I wrestled to pull them back over my hips, I happened to glance at the door.  Two white paws are scratching at the space between the floor and the door.  Damn Tuvok!  I swear, he’s worse than a child when I’m in the bathroom.

I ignore the pathetic meow followed by more scratching.  I finished getting everything back into place, washed my hands, and opened the door.  As I tried to step past Tuvok, he scrambled under my feet and I ended up tripping over him.  He took off down the hall as I landed on my knees on the hardwood floor.  You do not want to know the cuss words that flew out of my mouth at that damn cat as I got back onto my feet.  I looked down and realized my worst fears.  I tore up my knees and had huge runs down the panty hose.

Cursing even louder, I raced back to my room as much as my sore knees would allow.  I tore off the ruined hose and patted myself on the back for having the forethought to buy more than one pair.  I put Band-Aids on my knees and wrestled into another pair of hose.

About this time, my phone chimed for a text.  I glanced at it and was ready to cry.  My friend was waiting out in the car.  Damn it!  She’s early!  After texting back, “Give me a minute,” I yanked my dress over my head.  Now when you live alone, one of the dumbest things you can do is buy a dress with a zipper up the back.  Yes…I know…I just called myself a name.  I twisted and turned, yanked and pulled, cursed a blue streak, but finally got that damn zipper into place.  You know the irony is, if my friend hadn’t been early, I wouldn’t have had any problems getting that zipper up.

I raced downstairs with my small purse and quickly transferred the things I needed for the night from my day purse.  Moving into the living room, I didn’t even look as I slid my feet into my new shoes.  That’s when I stopped.  Something wasn’t right.  New footwear shouldn’t squish when you step into them.  Reaching down, I slipped the shoe off to find a gooey mess of orange colored, half-digested cat food on the inside and the bottom of my foot.  For half a second, I stared at my brand new shoe in disbelief.

“TUVOK!”

I think the whole house shook with my scream.  That son of a bitch, he puked in my shoe!  My brand new, never worn outside the house, ate shitty food and didn’t go out to save for them for almost a damn year, Manolo Blahnik’s.

Rage unlike anything I have ever felt went through me.  I walked through the house, one shoe on, one shoe off, a little deranged, looking for that cat.  I know I was muttering the whole time, have no idea what I said.  Couldn’t find the damn cat.  Couldn’t find Moose either.  I have no idea where they hid, but they knew if I found them, it wouldn’t be good.  I’m not normally a violent person, but I think I would have been justified killing my cat for ruining a $1500 pair of shoes.

Before you try to say he didn’t do it on purpose, I beg to differ.  He’s evil!

I just got back downstairs when my doorbell rang.  I opened the door and my friend stared at me for a moment with the funniest expression on her face.  She looked past me at the floor behind too.  I can only imagine what went through her head.  I didn’t realize I never put the other shoe down.  So, I stood at the door with a puked in Manolo Blahnik in one hand, the other on my foot, and a trail of orange colored mess behind me on the floor from everywhere I walked in my destroyed hose.  Only later did I realize how bad I really looked.  I must have been crying and the mascara ran down my cheeks.

Thankfully, she’s a great friend and figured out what happened without me having to say anything.  She pried the shoe from my stiff fingers, told me to go upstairs and put on my comfy clothes while she cleaned up the mess I made trying to find my cat to murder him.

I came downstairs to find she cleaned the worst of the mess out of my shoe, though it would never be the same.  I couldn’t look at it without remembering the vomit.  That and the little bits of orange stuff that stuck in the grooves was a constant reminder.  After mourning the shoes, we ordered out pizza and drank ourselves stupid.

Tuvok was given a new nickname.  He went from Baddums to Tuvok the Terrorist.  Lucky for him, he was smart enough to stay away from me for the rest of the night.  Moose, being Fattums, came out at the smell of pizza.  Nothing, and I mean nothing, would stop him from begging for pizza crust.

So ended my night, not with a well-sung song, but a drunken one.

I saw little of Tuvok for the next day or two.  I wasn’t looking for him and he knew better than to come near me until my temper cooled off.

Anybody want a cat?  He’s still mostly in one piece.  I promise!

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