FELIX HILLS, MINNESOTA — A woman and her cat are currently “not really on speaking terms” after the two had a falling out regarding a coronavirus diagnosis. 55 year old Susan Garfield says her cat, Sir Furball McFluffykins, are “trying to work through some things,” and the stress of it is making it hard for her to rest like her doctor told her to do when he gave Susan the news that she’d contracted the novel coronavirus. Susan had been in China on a trip with her husband Roy and tests confirmed on her arrival that she did in fact come down with a case of the virus that has infected thousands and killed hundreds so far.
“I mean, Sir Furball is a cat, and so he doesn’t really act like he cares about much at all,” Susan told her husband at dinner last night, “but would it kill him to give me a loving nuzzle? Is it so much to ask that he at least acknowledge it? I’m going through some real shit here, and it would just be nice if my cat would be a little less aloof than usual. I’m not asking for a miracle. Just a little polite, sympathetic meow would be good enough for me.”
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McFluffykins doesn’t necessarily see things the way Susan does, though.
“Meow, meow? Meowwwwwww meow meow-meow,” Sir Furball explained. “Meow meow meow meow meow. Meow, meow-meow, meow? Meowwwwwwwwwww.”
This just made Susan roll her eyes.
“Oh c’mon, Furball. You know that’s not fair. I was quite loving to you after we had you neutered,” Susan said. “Besides, we’ve had lots of talks about this. We couldn’t afford to take care of any kittens you might father, and frankly you gave no indication that you’d be able to control yourself, or be monogamous. So the idea of me being responsible for dozens of little kittens was just too much to bear. I agree with Bob Barker — if you care about the pet population, you get them spayed or neutered to control it.”
This elicited a hiss and an eye roll from McFluffykins.
“I’m sorry, Sir Furball, but I’m right, and you know it. You’ve told me before, after having a little catnip, that you’d definitely be out he-whoring it up if you still had balls,” Susan chided her cat. “You know I’m right on this one. How often do you really miss your balls, anyway? Testicals aren’t all life is about, Furball!”
But, McFluffykins wasn’t in the mood to have rational dialogue. He hissed again, and then jumped up on the kitchen counter. A glass of wine had been poured and was resting on the counter. Sir Furball padded his way up to the wine glass, and locked eyes with Susan for a few seconds.
“Meow? Meow,” Furball said.
With a royal swipe, he knocked the wine glass off the kitchen counter. It fell, shattering into dozens of pieces. The kitchen tile was flooded with cabernet. Susan went into action, picked up Sir Furball and set him in spare bedroom where his scratching post sits. She closed the door behind her, went down to the kitchen, and cleaned up the mess her cat had made.
“As you can see, we have some things we still have to work out between us, Sir Furball and me,” Susan said. “Maybe that’s why he hasn’t been very kind to me while I recover from coronavirus. Man, I tell you what — I don’t regret having his nuts snipped off at all…but if I had known he’d be so sensitive about it a few years later…I actually don’t know what I’d do. I firmly believe in neutering cats you know you can’t be responsible for when they breed.”
At the time of publication, the kitchen floor had been cleaned, and Susan had booked an appointment with a pet therapist for her and Sir Furball a few weeks from now, when her coronavirus quarantine should be up.
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Writer/comedian James Schlarmann is the founder of The Political Garbage Chute and his work has been featured on The Huffington Post. You can follow James on Facebook, Spotify, and Instagram, but not Twitter because Twitter is a cesspool.
