Thursday, August 17, 2006

The Truth About Stripey

My 13-year-old kitty, Leo, has been battling an inoperable jaw tumor for almost seven months now. With cat on my brain, I've had more than my fair share of pet conversations lately.

A couple months ago, my sister, Javadudess, and I were reminiscing about the various domesticated animals of our youth. We were both a little vague on our first -- a little female cat named "Stripey" (whose name illustrates the danger of letting young children name your pet.)

Stripey joined our family sometime during the years my sister and I were in grade school.

She wasn't with us all that long -- but on the "Why?" our memories failed us. Javadudess thought Stripey had had a flea problem, and I recalled something along the lines of recurrent urinary tract infections.

Regardless, we both believed that there had been some sort of health issue that ultimately led to little Stripey's mysterious removal from our household, and most likely a trip back to the SPCA (insert funeral march here.)

Recently, our parents were visiting my house.

Since my brother, The Boy Who Knows Everything, and his family weren't present to defend themselves, talk naturally turned to suggestions as to how they should run their lives.

Dad: I think (The Boy Who Knows Everything)'s family should get a dog.

Me: Why not a cat? They're so much easier to take care of.

Dad: I've never really felt the same about cats since I saw Stripey eating the babies.

Me (puzzled): You mean rabbit babies?

(Note: Among our menagerie of childhood pets had been a puppy that ate rabbits -- which became glaringly apparent when he regurgitated the fur on the family room rug. A special memory of my youth.)

Dad: No. Her dead babies.

Me: What? Stripey had babies?

Dad: Yeah, they were born dead...and I guess it was instinct or something, but I found her eating them. She had one of the babies' heads in her mouth when I saw's hard to forget something like that...

Me: I didn't know anything about that! You guys didn't tell us...

Dad: I might not have told anyone. It was pretty upsetting.
Well, as bad as I felt for Stripey (and her babies) at least the quick return to the SPCA finally made sense.

The moral of this sorry tale: Spay and neuter your pets, lest they suffer Stripey's fate!

(Oh, and enjoy your dinner...)


At August 16, 2006 5:11 PM, Blogger Spencer said...

Seriously my stomach went for a spin there.

I have a similar story where a cat we had when I was probably 10 years old(don't remember the name because we changed it daily). But not too long ago my sister tells me the cat disappeared because it was pregnant. As far as I know there was no "eating of babies" - but my parents never told us.

I'm trying to get this image out of my head.

At August 17, 2006 10:50 AM, Blogger radiocynic said...

Um, yilth. 'Splain to me again why we enjoy having pets?

At least the ingested-stillborn-kitten scenario turns it into a somewhat more innocuous Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom moment, rather that some even-more-freakish cannibalism horror-fest...

Either way, makes the disgusting-smelling bloody drool situation with the current cat seem pretty tame, eh?

At August 17, 2006 1:49 PM, Blogger Rev. Smokin Steve said...

Look here Cyn...

I just linked your blog, and you reward me with posting about a cat eating it's own dead babies?

I have an image to uphold. I'm not sure what that image is, but I'm pretty sure it's a respectable one. I don't know if I can be associated with such things.

Thank God my cat is fixed.

At August 23, 2006 3:49 PM, Blogger spocko said...

So, would you have told YOUR children that story if it happened to you? That is the kind of thing that will give you nightmares for the rest of your life.
I think I'm having one now!
Creepy. (Insert the music to "The Circle of Life" here)


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