Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Break Out Those Violins!

It was a warm, August afternoon.  Me, and my closest dozen, or so, brothers, sisters, cousins, brothers who are also my cousins, sisters who might be my mother, and dad, were lurking in a semi-abandoned trailer park, in a place I like to call:  Hell's Bellybutton.  I know, glorious beginnings for such an illustrious leader.  Anyway, some two-leggers began a perversion of the human Easter-egg hunt tradition in the tall grasses of the afore mentioned, hell!  They unceremoniously gathered me and six-to-eight (it is difficult to count when being man-handled--which is why, there is no such thing as cat-handling) of my youngest siblings, and tossed us into cramped plastic cages.  While I hope that my captor's actions were altruistic, it would've been better for them to take my family to a "No Kill" Shelter, rather than let us roam free in Hell's Bellybutton, or to be confined to those plastic cages.  I say this because they did not provide us with proper nutrition.  I was not even old enough to be weaned from my mother when all they provided for me was cheap dry-food, which was placed in a communal bowl so that the larger of my family were able to force the smaller and weaker of us aside and eat most of it, leaving little to none for the rest of us.
  My suffering ended when my current humans arrived at the domicile of my captors.  The villains dragged out the 'dirty dozen,' of us kitties.  And, proceeded to dangle us before the 'shoppers.'  My current humans were appalled.  All of us, kittens, were emaciated, diseased, and flea riddled.  Which we had been told, by our older brethren was the fashion of the time.  As I soon discovered, this was not the case.  Being the smallest, and most diseased of the 'litter,' my current humans decided to pity me.  They took me to their home, where I was tortured with soap, and water.  Until all of my hard earned fleas were washed down the drain.  Then, I was forced to drink from a tiny little baby bottle, because I refused to eat while my family was still held captive.  I quickly overcame this aversion to the sweet, sweet taste of tuna.
  The first few days of my acclimation to the new facilities were difficult, and I established a home base, behind a tall, white porcelain water dish.  Strangely, the new humans became quite upset if I drank from said water-dish.
  I was quickly nursed back to health by the tender ministrations of the humans, and the terrible, terrible, evil, cock-eyed, halitosis ridden Vet.  (Note:  Vets will be forced to endure all of their own treatments when I rule the world.  Thermometers do not go there, I've seen the humans use them.)
  I do not tell  you this to garner pity for myself, but to advocate for all of the other lost and woeful kitties in the world.  Please, be sure to patronize your local shelters and ASPCA, to help and build a stronger army.
  Thank you, and good night.


DaisyMae Maus said...

I'm glad to accept my "mad props" ... especially since I am so "mad prop worthy."

Kudos to your 'beans for choosin' you an' helping you to advocate for others. I remember the days of the ginormous communal food bowl as I often shared it with the youngest of the sticky heathens my previous "owner" (read: jailer) called a "child" ... It was filled with woofie food called Ol' Roy ... It took weeks of Eukanuba an' Fancy Feast from my mom to wash the taste from my maw. Eewww ...

I don't miss the fleas either ... Fleas suck: literally and figuratively. They WEREN'T hard earned in my book. Bleh!

Keep up the fight, J.J. ... Oh, an' Mom said "cool" when I told her 'bout you 'cuz you and she share the same initials.

I'm gonna go "Chuck Norris" on a Tootsie Roll Pop ...

Later dood!

Kaltsas Kats said...

Your story reminds me a lot of Nemo's story being the runt. If you look at him now you would never know it. We are glad you got a good forever home with people who love you.
-Patches and Nemo

Ikaika said...

Wonderful story, Sir J. Jones ... a classic hero's tale, rising above your humble beginnings and traveling the road to greatness! We're witnessing history in the making.

Yrs truly,


Mr. Palm said...

I am afraid, so very afraid. . .

Daisy said...

Thank Cod you were rescued from Hell's Bellybutton! From humble beginnings, greatness grows.

Jerusalem Jones said...

Mr. Palm,
You should be afraid! Don't Fear the Reaper, but you should definitely fear the King-Kat! Mrewl! You'd better watch-out Mister, I'm a Cou-ghar!

Daisy and Kaika,
It is true, greatness is apparently in my blood. Who knows where those fleas may go, seeing as they have sucked some of my blood out, maybe they will go on to great things too. They'll still be fleas...but Great fleas!

Patches and Nemo,
It is true, I was in fact the 'runt' of the so called 'litter.' I am proud to say that I have grown into my illustrious self since my (as daddy puts it) "alien baby" days. (Father, you will be one of the first to feel the full force of my iron paw)

I am gladdened to hear that you will be going "Chuck Norris" on those Tootsie Roll Pops. I have it on authority from Chuck himself (that's right, he and I are on a first name basis, I call him Chuck and he calls me Mentor) that he is indeed a cat, in a people-suit. How else do you think that one human could be so amazing? And hairy?

Forever furious,
Jerusalem Jones, A.S.A.P.

brandi said...

How wonderful to finally meet you! Purrs to your reign!

Jerusalem Jones said...

I like your style! Welcome to my domain. Soon all the world will be mine!

Jerusalem Jones, A.K.A.

Cliff and Olivia said...

Hey. That pic of you in a cardboard box on your profile page is almost exactly like one of me I recently posted on my blog. Scary... or cool?!

As a fellow tux I'll let you rule over there in the states, but Europe is mine!

Your humans sounds like nice ones - for humans.


Jerusalem Jones said...

Cliff and Olivia,
I shall allow your conquest of Europe, but only because I am slightly terrified by the large wet spot which surrounds my current conquest, and stands between us.

Forever alert,
Jerusalem Jones, D.R.Y.