What a prick, on multiple levels.  Castration perhaps so he doesn't spread the joy.

Emmeran wrote:

Oddly enough and filed under childhood memories...

Growing up we'd have barn cats and each year when they had kittens being kids we'd each call a kitten our own.  Standard shit for kids.  A dame decided to den her litter under the riding lawnmower in our machine shed one year.  The kits grow into fun little fur balls as nature intended, again, all standard normal shit. 

Spring comes and we're playing with the kits our on the front porch when my mother decides to do the first lawn mowing of the year.  She drives the riding mower up onto the lawn, engages the blade making the normal racket and scaring the hell out of "my" kitten who makes the unwise decision to race for the safety of the safest place he knew about which had suddenly, in his little furball brain, showed up in front of him.

Lawnmowers not giving a shit what they mow, cats being quick and life being what it is I was treated to a first hand lesson in to the realities of mower versus cat.  My mother, to her benefit, had the good sense to calmly tell us to get the hose and then carry on mowing.  I can recall the entire event in exquisite detail.

Did she make one of those veggie salad jello molds with lots of tomato to cheer you up?

Last edited by Tall Paul (2015-07-27 06:27:24)