Pablo Died Today (standard:non fiction, 2531 words) [1/2] show all parts
Author: casio1933	Updated: May 03 2008	Views/Reads: 2981/1948	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Pablo was my cat. He lived almost twenty years. Since I sometimes writing in the first person, I am letting Pab be my spokesperson (cat). I hope you enjoy his stories. All feedback is appreciated.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

continued to bring me plenty of food and water and things went great 
for about a week.   By that time I was getting bored not to mention the 
odor ? I had to use the back seat for a toilet.  Charlie neglected to 
provide a litter box. 

Kay and Warren had bought the house I was born in (next door).   They
had a German shepherd named Babe and a cat named Grumpy.   After I 
decided to abandon my "camp?out," I spent my days playing with Babe and 
stalking Grumpy.  Babe never tried to hurt me but Grumpy would swat 
hell out of me if I got too close. 

so email the text to me. Also for this option, you should have different
paragraphs of text, which MUST be separated by a white line (in other 
words: press "enter" twice between paragraphs). If you don't do this, 
all paragraphs will end up linked together into one big stream of text, 
and it will It was along about this time that Charlie came home one 
night with Margie.  They had been married that weekend.    Margie was 
more of a drunk   than   Charlie (unreformed alcoholics are drunks).   
She immediately picked me up and squeezed the shit out of me telling 
Charlie what a nice cat "Midnight” was.   I knew that I would have to 
tolerate her and didn't protest too much ? just how much I would have 
to tolerate I didn't know at the time. 

The spring following my "camp?out" I was about six months old and
becoming quite proficient as a hunter.  I had caught a bird, a mole, 
two frogs and a  "shit?pot" full of bugs ? I had never met a snake.  
Now North Carolina is full of snakes of just about all kinds; it was 
unfortunate that my first encounter was with a cottonmouth moccasin.   
I really did not intend to eat the snake, but thought it might be fun 
to play with it for a while. Well after about two minutes the 
son?of?a?bitch bit me on the side of my face.  I went nuts! Nothing had 
ever hurt me so bad.   I ran under some bushes and hid ? for two days.  
  I had not eaten anything or drunk any water.   My head was swollen 
about the size of a soft ball and felt like it would burst.  I heard 
Warren talking and crawled out from under the bushes.  He picked me up 
to examine my head and I raked my dew?claw across the snakebite ? my 
head burst.  About a cup of poison ran out.  Warren said he could see 
the bones in my face.  He carried me to the veterinarian, who treated 
me  ? but theorized, "he probably won't live." 

Kay and Warren looked after me until I was back on my feet and eating
everything in sight. 

Charlie and Margie had been married a few months and were having some
really heavy arguments  (daily) about every subject that came up.   
Both of them were still trying to drink more booze than the distillers 
could produce (while unsuccessful, I believe they did keep them working 
nights and weekends).   They were also having some fairly good brawls.  
 I did not try to keep track of who was winning.  I was too busy trying 
to stay the hell out of Margie's way (she still squeezed the shit out 
of me every time she got her hands on me). 

It was about five?thirty on Friday morning, when I heard Margie
screaming.   She was outside Kay and Warren's bedroom window.  "Come 
quick ? Charlie's dead!"  She yelled again and again.  Warren ran out 
of the house in just his pants (I later learned ? he almost always 
slept bare assed) and into Charlie's bedroom.   Charlie had stopped 
breathing and his color had started to turn a bluish grey.  Warren 
began artificial respiration and got him to breathing on his own after 
about two or three minutes.   In about five minutes, Charlie could talk 
a little, but not very coherently.  Kay had called the Matthews (N.C.) 
Rescue Squad when Margie had awakened her and by this time had joined 
Warren in Charlie's bedroom.   Margie was running around the house 
hollering her head off.   Charlie regained consciousness for a few 
minutes, and then he apparently had another attack and again stopped 
breathing.  Warren started work on him and after about ten minutes had 
him breathing, but for only a little while.   This went on for about an 
hour.  Charlie was permanently dead but Warren kept up the artificial 
respiration anyway. 

The rescue vehicle arrived    after an hour and a half ? Matthews is a
good three miles away.   The driver explained he had to shave and 
shower before he could come out, since he was going to work after this 
trip.   Warren could not stand for a few minutes after the rescue 
vehicle arrived and had some trouble walking.   He and the driver 
loaded Charlie into the vehicle and Kay got in with them.   Warren 
asked the driver for an oxygen bottle and was told, "not to use too 
much"  ? that was the only bottle he had. 

By the time they got to the main road, Charlie had turned blue with no
sign of life.   Warren told the driver Charlie was dead and he should 
slow down  (he was driving like a maniac).  The driver then really "put 
his foot to the floor."  All the way into Charlotte (about fifteen 
miles) Kay and Warren could only hold on and hope the asshole driver 
would be lucky.  Some neighbors brought Margie to the hospital about an 
hour after the ambulance got Charlie there.  By this time the emergency 
room doctors had determined Charlie had suffered a massive stroke and 
probably a heart attack also.  They didn't think they could have saved 
him if he had been in the hospital at the time of his attack.   The 
neighbors carried Kay and Warren home. 

Immediately after Charlie's funeral, things got tight around the house. 
Margie would "takeoff" for days at a stretch.   At times she would 
leave me in the house with no food or water (I did get some water from 
the commode) and no litter box.  The whole house became my litter box.  
 I was nearly starved when she would come home (and squeeze the shit 
out of me).   Other times she would leave me outside with no food or 
water.  I began to visit Babe more often.  Without objection, she would 
always let me eat some of her "Pard."  Between the snakebite and 
Margie's failure to feed me, I had lost a lot of weight.  After a few 
trips next door, Kay began to set a plate for me alongside Babe.  She 
always gave me a full can (the same as she gave Babe) and I always ate 
it all.   This went on all summer and into the early fall. 

Kay and Warren were not very happy living in North Carolina and had
discussed moving back to Virginia.  Warren had promised Kay they would 
stay for a year and if they did not like it, they would move back home. 
 Warren had talked to his previous employer and had agreed to return to 
work for them ? starting in November 1968. 

I was getting back into shape.  The one-pound can of "Pard” each day was
doing wonders.  I had even begun to challenge Smut, the thirty-pound 
tomcat that lived next door to Kay and Warren. 

Now, to hear Smut meow, you would think he was the biggest sissy around
? he wasn't.   He was just the biggest, meanest, roughest cat around.  
While he was so big he couldn't chase and catch other cats, he would 
try to get them to run up a tree.   If they did, he would calmly climb 
up behind them and whip hell out of them.   I managed to keep out of 
his way and not climb any trees.  Never?the?less he was a challenge and 
more than once Babe would intervene when Smut was about to crawl on my 
ass. No one could ever understand Smut.  In many ways he was unusual.   
He once brought home three kittens; they had not opened their eyes.   
Smut would curl up with the kittens, clean them and try to get them to 
nurse.  Naturally, Muriel had to raise the kittens on a bottle and find 
homes for them.   He would also bring home baby rabbits and try to get 
them nursing.  Despite all of his "mothering" instinct, he was one 
"hard?ass" when it came to other tomcats.   I guess I was just lucky 
that Babe was around to protect me. 

I was just over a year old when Warren and Kay were getting ready to
move back to Virginia.   They were busy packing things up and 
discussing their move, their friends and me.   Warren and Kay had 
decided to take me back to Virginia with them and find me "a good 
home."  Warren said I would not live a year the way Margie was treating 
me (or not treating me). 

About a week before their scheduled move, Warren carried me to the Vet
(he had taken me on several occasions before).  He told the Vet he was 
planning to steal me, and the reasons.  The Vet agreed it would be best 
to get me away from Margie's care.  Warren told the Vet to give me all 
my shots, neuter me and give me a tranquilizer on the following Friday 
? the day of the move.   He also told the Vet he would be picking me up 
late that Friday afternoon on his way to Virginia.  Well I didn't know 
what "neuter" was, but it hurt like hell. I haven't wanted to chase 
pussy (no pun intended) since ? it didn't interfere with my enjoying a 
good fight. 

The morning of the move, Margie showed up drunk with her new stud (about
nineteen years old), he was drunk too.   She had been gone for about 
three weeks.  The first Warren and Kay knew she was back was when they 
heard her calling, "Midd?nightt" "Midd?nightt” repeatedly.   She 
finally came over to see Warren and Kay.  She asked if they had seen 
me.  Warren told her he had not seen me "around there” for about a 
week.   He wasn't lying ? he had been to visit me several times at the 
Vet, but I hadn't been "around there” in over a week. 

After everything was packed for the move, Kay and Warren said their
goodbyes to Jim, Muriel, their kids, Smut and Hoss ? then they came for 
me.   I was too drunk to care about anything except sleep.   They 
poured me in the back seat of their old Mercedes and set out for 
Virginia. 


Tweet