This isn’t funny.
I’m not even smiling.
Do I deserve a place in society if I think this guy needs a declawing sans anesthesia?
Am I dead inside for preferring to imagine this cat rigor mortis?
I’ll argue that yes, I deserve to maintain U.S. citizenship even while thinking felines around the world would best be shipped to a chef in China. Maybe said chef has got a French culinary background. Maybe said chef knows how to barbecue these guys to a nice medium-rare temperature, and then maybe serve them with a sweet red chili pepper sauce. Or Frank’s Red Hot. Or whatever he’s got on hand, really. As long as it disguises long enough the fact that you’re eating cat, so that the Chinese are capable of eating them and ultimately, decimating the entire worldwide cat population.
I’m a monster, I know, but here’s my valid reason for hating cats:
A stray cat bit me as I was walking home on the eve of my 25th birthday. Ok I accidentally stepped on its tail, so it was accidentally provoked. And I stress accidentally here, because prior to the incident, I promise I didn’t feel this sort of animosity towards the totally useless, usually sleeping, affectionate-seeking-but-rarely-reciprocating species.
So after the bite, I thought things were fine. Should’ve Googled “cat bite infection” instead of brushing it off:
Two days later, my ankle turned into something that would’ve made me a very successful body double in a zombie apocalypse foot-fetish sort of film.
Day after day, things got worse and worse. The ankle became a cankle. That “99 Red Balloons” song started to sound like a Nostradamus prediction about my ankle. The antibiotics I was getting weren’t strong enough.
It took two intravenous antibiotic treatments, multiple oral antibiotics, a set of crutches from 1962, and lots of pleasant trips to Bumrungrad Hospital, before I was set straight.
But I spent a week with my foot elevated in bed, missing work, enviously looking out my window watching people do cool things like walk around, and contemplating ways to circumvent PETA in my next great adventure to ensure every cat makes it safely to China.
This bullshit scenario was the product of what lives in a cat’s mouth: a bacteria that will give you the worst infection of your life.
What do you know about Pasteurella multocida? It doesn’t matter, I’ll tell you everything that’s valid and important. I told WebMD and MayoClinic to take a hike: I was logging into academic research databases and searching through medical journals on the treatment and prognosis of a bacteria I feared would leave me disabled. I can tell you the biological makeup and lifecycle of this Satan-in-cell-form bacteria. Guys, it was bad.
But, since I was making thrice-weekly trips to the hospital, I did discover my new favorite coffee shop. The place has luxuriously high ceilings and windowed walls. It’s great. Right down the street from the hospital on Soi 1, called Elefin. Now I’m no coffee connoisseur. I’m known to like my sugar and cream with some coffee, and if a mocha tastes like chocolate cake it’s getting five stars from me.
But this coffee required no tampering on my part. It was freaking delicious. They roast all their beans in-house, which must mean something important in coffee circles.
The place also turns into a salsa and tango club on weekends. And just get a load of that interior. I was sold the minute I hobbled/crawled in.
To circle back a bit here: my foot eventually healed. Haven’t yet made it back to my Thai aerobic hip-hop class where I’m the least coordinated (and the only foreigner), but doc is giving me two weeks. I am both expecting a full recovery and planning to go straight-Uma Thurman in “Kill Bill” on that cat when I find it.
Although, I’m a bit disappointed that I no longer have a reason to gimp around the hospital and my new favorite nearby coffee shop. And while I would still drop by if I’m in the neighborhood, it’ll likely be awhile. Planning a mass extinction is not something you do in charming coffee shops with wonderful wood accents, nor in public in general.
*Note to cat-lovers: I’m really sorry for any offense. I’m just trying to be humorous.
*Note to anyone who might share this opinion on cats, if say, I really meant it: Google hangout. 9pm Thursdays. Do some preliminary reading.