84 days ago by fritoandtheg... | 45 views | 3 meows

Fear to Frito's Ears

No, I’m not talking about “a trip to the vet”.  That’s bad, yes.  I hate those trips as much as anycat.  In fact, I’ve been red “psycho” sticky-noted by my vet for years. 

No, in my childrearing years around here, I have discovered something far worse than that.  A few years ago, I heard that we were getting the oldest kid a cello.  I wasn’t the most sophisticated cat in town and thought we were going to be making Pudding Pops or Jigglers.  I like Jello thingies.   Sounded like fun to me.  Well, they didn’t tell me that a c and a j can significantly change the meaning of a word while doing little to the sound.  Actually a cello can, and did, make some horrible noises and it did NOT sound fun around here for weeks.  Then, after weeks of off key “plucking” (which only further complicated the missing parakeet issue in my mind), the kid got to use the thing she called a bow and it got MUCH, MUCH worse.  In fact, the first time she used the bow, I had a complete and total out of character, psychotic break.  I had been downstairs napping on the middle kid’s bed (where she likes to hide my blanket) and all of a sudden I became certain that something was upstairs torturing some poor creature!  I mean, the thing was screaming and howling!!!  It was horrible!  Just Terrifying!

I knew right away that I couldn’t be next.  I’m just a little kitty, you know.  And I couldn’t let Lea face the monster upstairs.  I had to protest and warn everyone! Most importantly,  I had to get Gina awake from her perch in the laundry room to go fight the thing off!!!  I began to yowl and howl and carried on with such force that the monster upstairs stopped its torturous tirade.

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Oddly enough, the one we call mom came into the room in tears—well, sort of.  The woman I saw as a sympathetic ally was actually rolling with laughter as she came to drag me from under the blankets.   She dragged me upstairs, to the lair of the beast, so that I could see that the sounds were from the kid and the cello and not some killer monster.  It was quite a relief, until it occurred to me that the kid would be doing this EVERY DAY to “practice”.  Luckily, she improved.  I kind of like it now—unless she breaks into the Jaws theme.  That still makes the hair on my tail stand up.

Anyway, to get to the point.  I heard some words yesterday that would stop the heart of any laid back cat:   Nope.  Not time to go to the vet.  And, no, Mom hasn’t taken in a new psycho cat to fill the Sal E. vacancy.  I heard Dad say that the 5 year old’s getting a violin.   And I thought Gina’s playlist gave me heartburn!   Do you think they make ear plugs big enough for these sensitive ears?