Lopsided Cat Laughs at My Concern

Me, letting Lopsided Cat through the door: There you are. Dude, I was worried about you last night. It got down to single digits and the wind tore shingles off the roof. I thought you might become a catsicle.

Lopsided Cat: Yes, well. I know you might not have gotten the memo, but rumor is that I have a really thick fur coat. And if it gets too cold I just disembowel a raccoon, snuggle into the carcass for warmth and then eat my way out of its body in the morning.

Me: I see. So, want some cat food?

Lopsided Cat: No thanks. It was pretty frosty last night. I’m kinda full.

Me: Ew.

Lopsided Cat: I saved you some. It’s by the garage steps.

Me: You shouldn’t have.

Lopsided Cat: I’m just giving that way. Anyway, not that this isn’t fun, but you’re blocking me from my nap.

Me: Sorry. I know you need your rest.

Lopsided Cat: Damn straight. Those raccoons don’t disembowel themselves, you know.

19 Comments on “Lopsided Cat Laughs at My Concern”

  1. Hey, it’s not easy having those claws just itching to tear into any available animal hide.

    Beautiful focus on the photo though.

  2. Speaking of 1st person dialog with cats, I read a good book awhile back called Tailchaser’s Song by Tad Williams. Good read.

  3. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang in snow pants. Just snow pants.

    Usually cats lose versus raccoons. Those bandits fight dirty.

    I’m glad George Foreman is not an outdoor cat these days. It’s stressful for me because I know he could get hurt or worse, but also he’s not the best hunter and when he comes in with something it’s usually still alive enough to run out of his jaws and the first relaxation of muscles and go hide somewhere to die.

  4. Cats may not take down racoons, but they can certainly kill enough squirrels and shrews and make a fort out their bones!

    Once had a cat (Mikey) who hunted shrews. I once found as many as four little corpses on my pillow the next morning.

    I praised him, but after that, I set traps. Lots of traps.

  5. When your cat brings you a live duck, then you’ve known true cat love… and the drawbacks of cat doors. He’s still a kitten, so I’m kind of hoping that by the time he’s 2, he’ll have learned to kill the presents before bringing them home.

  6. If the Executive Committee of The Official Ghlaghghee Fan Club didn’t have its hands full worshipping Magnificent She and playing excessive amounts of COD4, it would start the affiliated The Official Lopsided Cat Fan Club.

    He is truly His Mightiness.

    The Official Ghlaghghee Fan Club

  7. My money’s on the raccoon. I suspect it is unlikley that it would come to blows. Both critters knowing that while the other would be tasty the potential price is too high.

  8. Maybe it’s just me, but photographs, Lopsided Cat just doesn’t look… lopsided.

    But that is gorgeous cat. And I’m glad I’m not the one who has to brush out that coat

  9. For my money the most impressive cat present I’ve ever seen brought home was a crow. Not my cat, but I saw the takedown. It was a close battle.

    My uncle’s cat aimed higher and attempted to bring home a peregrine falcon (neighbor’s friend’s bird, on a block). This nearly resulted in the falcon presenting his owner with a cat present.

  10. I love Lopsided Cat. And I see no tilt either. I think your eyeballs are crooked Mr. Scalzi. He is perfect.

    I once had a cat–Sheba–who brought me “fish and plankton and sea greens and protein from the sea”–okay, that’s not true. But she did bring me gophers all time. And their intestines were always stretched all over the front steps. Christ. It was bad.

  11. I’m not aware of him actually killing any. I don’t doubt he could if he wanted to make the effort.

    Doubt it. Our 55 lb pit bull once took on a raccoon that had entered her dog pen. She appeared to be winning, but it managed to get away after doing some damage to her face. I later found the great feline hunter, slayer of rats and baby grackles, cowering behind the dog’s house, and I suspect that the raccoon was hunting the cat.

    Rabies boosters for all.

  12. Raccoons have thumbs, it gives them unfair advantage. Of course, God kept thumbs from cats for the same reason he gave whisky to the Irish.

  13. Lair of This Blog is Full of Crap has a polydactyl ginger tom (with thumbs) name of Nardo. Nardo regularly presents Lair with gifts of lizards; a number of whom are still alive and well.

    Nardo is also known as one of the few cats who can be outsmarted by a pug.

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