A few years ago I made my living by driving a truck. I got my CDL back in 95', drove over the road for a few years, then quit. When we moved from Nebraska to Florida back in 99', I went over the road again, 'cause I couldn't get a job in Florida. Anyways, while I was gone the ol' lady went to the animal shelter and got a brand new kitty because she said she was lonely - you know, livin' in a new city.
Originally she named him "Tabby." Probably because he's a Tabby. When I first saw this kitty with great big paws, I concluded that "Tabby" just didn't cut the cake for such a huge kitty so I renamed him "Muad'dib." Muad'dib was taken from the book "Dune." The character "Muad'dib" eventually becomes the savior of the Universe. Since this kitty was so great, I thought it would be appropriate.
To make a long story short - I quit my job truck drivin' and found that this stupid kitty was hell-bent on not letting us sleep and it really pissed my off. I would lick my face, knock stuff off the dresser, go runnin' around the house makin' noise and breakin' stuff. So finally I threw it in the bathroom and closed the door. I figured if the kitty was contained it would settle down and just go to sleep.
He mostly scratched on the bathroom door, and I just turned on the air conditioner to drown out his scratching and yelping. Before long he had completly scratched the surface off the bottom of the door.
I concluded that this kitty was more trouble than he was worth and decided to bite his head off. Since he was just a kitty, his head was just the size of a small lemon so I was sure I could do it.
So I grab the kitty by the back of the neck and shove his head in my mouth. I'm just about to bite down, when Moe decides to bite down. Next thing I know, I got blood spilling out of my mouth and dripping off my chin.
I yank the kitty out of my mouth and that little shit has a chunk of my tongue, about the size of a quarter, in his mouth. I figure I better get it from him and take it to the hospital so they can sew it back on. The kitty runs into the kitchen and hides under the table giving me a "fuck-ya'll-look."
I kneal down to grab him when I see him swallow my tongue in one swift gulp.
By now the kitchen floor is covered in blood and pee (the injury did hurteth me so - and my pants did dripeth of the pee-pee).
I left a note on the table, telling the ol' lady to clean up the mess and that I went to the hospital. Then I grabbed a dirty T-Shirt, shoved it in my mouth so I don't drip all over the car and head toward the hospital, where they proceeded to stitch and clean my torn tongue.
I came home hating that Moe-Kitty. I still hate the kitty to this very day - but I also have deep respect for this and any other animal that don't take no shit.
And now you know!
COMING NEXT…Dream, dream, and dream again!