I love this cat and I fear him. He’s insanely smart, and maybe…just maybe…Lucifer disguised as a cat..
Shortly after the arrival of the Momma cat and her kittens (See Meet the Kitties – Part One), Momma disappeared. Shortly after that, another cat showed up. He’s a large orange and white tabby, and he immediately started caring for the kittens. He’d wash their little faces and he protected them from other cats who tried to take over their territory. I love him for that and call him Big Daddy.
Yes, I love him, but I’m pretty sure that Big Daddy is evil incarnate. He’s probably Satan himself, cleverly disguised as a soft cuddly ball of fur. His favorite pastime is torturing me. The following is an accounting of two incidents which support my theory.
One night, I sat outside on my back lanai, drinking my customary glass of wine, while reading a book. I was engrossed in this book. I wasn’t aware that Big Daddy had joined me until I felt something hit my foot. I looked down and saw a mouse. It was frozen in fear, sitting on the tips of my toes. Its long whiskers trembled and the mouse’s shiny eyes stared at Big Daddy with terror.
The cat stared at me calmly, as though waiting for my reaction. I am not faint of heart, and I generally am not afraid of small creatures, but the sudden shock of seeing the mouse there, cowering against my toes…well… I shrieked. My shriek seemed to awaken the shocked mouse which then ran up my leg and into my shorts where it clamped onto my thigh with its teeth.
I stood and howled, but the mouse held on. I shook my leg. The mouse held on. I began to wave my arms, while jumping from foot to foot; trying to dislodge the mouse. Anyone seeing me would have thought I was doing a strange version of the hokey-pokey. During this entire time I was screaming at the top of my lungs. (Mouse teeth hurt!).
Big Daddy watched me in fascination, and I swear his eyes were smiling. I’d like to think he was smiling at my antics, but it wasn’t that kind of smile. It was the kind of smile you see on the face of a villain before the villain does something spectacularly evil…or in this case…after. Finally, the mouse was dislodged and plopped out of my shorts and onto the ground. It took off at the speed of light with Big Daddy right behind it. They disappeared around a corner and into the night.
I sighed with relief and pulled up my shorts. There on my thigh, mouth teeth impressions were etched into my skin, bleeding little spots of blood. Great, I thought, just great, it’s probably going to become infected and I’ll probably die a slow and terrible death. I went into the house for antiseptic and saw that Ken was sitting at a nearby table.
“Did you hear me yelling?” I asked.
He pulled his eyes from his computer and looked at me. “Yes.”
“And you didn’t think that maybe you should come and see what I was yelling about?”
“What if a murderer or rapist were attacking me?”
“Was a murder or a rapist attacking you?”
“No, but I was being attacked by a mouse with really sharp teeth. And what’s more, Big Daddy seemed to enjoy it!”
“How much wine have you had?”
I threw up my hands and went to find the antiseptic.
After cleaning my wound, I went back to the lanai, my book and another glass of wine. After being munched by a mouse, and given I’d probably die soon from mouse germs, I felt I deserved it. Not five minutes later, I felt another plop on my foot. I looked down in time to see the mouse dive beneath the arch of my foot, cowering once again. Big Daddy settled in to watch the show.
Instead of shrieking and dancing, I slowly lifted my foot. The mouse streaked away, but Big Daddy pounced and snared it with his mouth and marched back to where I sat. He dropped the mouse on my feet again! This time the little rodent ran around my feet repeatedly, looking, I suppose, for another hiding place.
Apparently, it thought my shorts were still the best option and raced, once again, up my leg. I stood quickly, kicking my leg forward before it could latch on. I watched in horror as the mouse sailed through the air, hit the far wall and bounced off. It landed on the floor with a squeak. Big Daddy followed the mouse’s flight with amused eyes. He then stood slowly, stretched, and went to the stunned rodent. He picked it up again and brought it to me, dropping it on my foot.
The mouse lay there, its whiskers twitching, eyes closed.
As I contemplated the mouse, I tried to give Big Daddy the benefit of the doubt. Was he really trying to torment me? What if he was presenting the mouse as a gift, for all the fish I’d fed him over the months. Maybe, Big Daddy was waiting for me to eat the mouse!
I decided to find out.
“Oh, you brought me a present! Does my kitty want me to eat the mouse?” I leaned over and picked up the stunned rodent by the tail. It hung there, looking utterly defeated. ( Note: I wasn’t really going to eat the mouse, I was pretending for Big Daddy.)
I quickly found out that Big Daddy, in fact, did not want me to eat the mouse. With lightning speed he struck out with claws extended and whipped the mouse away from me, taking a good part of the flesh on my fingers with it.
I shrieked and looked at my fingers which were already dripping with blood, and then back at Big Daddy. It was as though he waited for me to look at him, for the minute I did, he decapitated the poor creature in front of me and ate the body in one crunch. He then picked up the mouse head and dropped it on my feet.
“That’s it!” I yelled at Big Daddy. “You are a mean, mean kitty! I hope you enjoyed all those treats I gave you because you’re never getting another one. This fish store is closed!”
I went inside and this time Ken looked up from his computer before I said anything. He looked at my bloodied hand, which was still dripping. He brought his eyes back to my face.
“Let me guess, the mouse again?”
“No, it was Big Daddy. He didn’t want me to eat the mouse.”
“You were going to eat the mouse?”
“I thought it was a present.”
“Sweetie, I worry about you.”
“I know,” I said, and went off to tend my wounds.
Over the course of months, it became apparent that Big Daddy enjoyed torturing me. The next story, I think, illustrates this.
There was a little green and yellow bird who befriended me, quite unexpectedly, while I fed the chickens. It would wait for me to spread their seed, and then would swoop down and land on my tennis shoe. (I know right? Why do small creatures keep landing on my feet?) Morning after morning this sweet little bird would perch on my shoe and sing to me.
I came to look forward to the little songstress. I named her Sunshine. Sunshine’s complete trust humbled me and made me feel even a little special. I mean how many people can say that they had a bird friend who serenaded them each morning…from their foot, no less?
On one such morning, after the bird lit on my foot, I was distracted by some of the chicken’s antics and watched them, laughing out loud, while Jane tried to sexually molest Chloe. (Turns out the chicken sisters have lesbian tendencies, which I learned is not uncommon if there isn’t a rooster around.) Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of movement. When I turned, Big Daddy stood at my feet with my little feathered friend in his mouth.
Horrified doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt. Without thinking, I grabbed Big Daddy and held him upside down, and thumped his back. He still held on to the bird.
“You can’t eat Sunshine!” I yelled. “Sunshine’s my friend!
I thumped him again and again until the bird plopped to the ground. It wobbled around a bit with dazed eyes, and then, happily, flew away. Still holding Big Daddy, I did a little happy dance.
I set Big Daddy down and he gave me a cold, disgusted look. Then he turned, sticking his tail in the air, and stalked away. Unbelievably, Sunshine returned, looking a little frazzled, but sang a little song, anyway. While Sunshine sang, I was extra vigilant in watching for the possible return of Big Daddy.
The next morning, before I’d even had a cup of coffee, I heard Big Daddy at the front door. He was making a strange noise…kind of like a feral whine in the back of his throat. I opened the door and looked down at Big Daddy. He calmly set a dead Sunshine at my feet and stalked off.
I fell to my knees, arms outstretched toward the departing cat. “Why?” I called out to him. “Why did you do it?” Big Daddy ignored me.
Ken found me weeping, clutching the dead bird to my chest.
“Sweetie, are you okay? What’s the matter?”
“Big Daddy murdered Sunshine!”
Ken noted the bird. “Isn’t that what cats generally do? Kill birds?”
I shook my head. “Sunshine wasn’t just any bird, she was my friend! She sang to me!”
“Oh Sweetie, is that the bird that sits on your foot every morning?”
“Well that sucks. I’d hug you but you’re clutching a dead bird.”
“I wouldn’t let him eat Sunshine yesterday. So he killed her and deliberately brought her to me. He’s evil and mean! He could have just killed her and ate her. Then I’d never known what became of her…He wanted me to know he killed Sunshine!”
“So, why do you keep feeding Big Daddy?”
“Because he watches over the kittens.”
Ken rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised he hasn’t eaten them, as well.”
To this day, Big Daddy, still tortures me. Just yesterday, I was gifted with two yellow and green birds, and a large rat. Each “present” was placed precisely under my chair on the lanai. Although I try to believe otherwise, I can’t help believing that the prolific number of yellow and green birds he brings me is some warped way of reminding me of Sunshine. I mean, he never brings me a pigeon, and they’re the stupidest birds on the planet! Even my cat, Mikey, who I am sure needs glasses, catches pigeons! Why doesn’t Big Daddy bring me a pigeon instead of birds that look like Sunshine?
What do you think? Is Big Daddy evil? Or is it just me, and my overactive imagination? Does anyone else have a diabolical kitty? If you do, I’d love to hear about it!