Once Again, the Damsel in Distress Has to Save Herself
Every once in a while you’ll have one of those stories that you feel you just have to share with someone and/or a bunch of people because it’s just too cute and funny to keep to yourself. Today was one of those days.
I have a cat. He is the coolest cat ever; and it’s not just me saying it. Everyone says he’s cool… I really don’t know why either, he just is. He is also young and energetic: always getting into and playing with things that are not his toys (you should hear my drawer story!). As per the usual, understood human/cat agreement, he generally kills the bugs that enter our house, for which I am very grateful and make a big deal about so he knows that he CAN have fun in a way that is approved by mommy. This morning he let me down.
I was ready for work and decided to throw a load of laundry in the washer. Said load of laundry was in a pile on the floor and, as I bent over & pick it up, I saw a long, black bug underneath the pile. Like any normal female, I let out a little shriek, immediately dropped the pile, and called for Orion (that’s his name, by the way) to come and kill the cockroach. He and Betsy (my husband’s cat who is rather lazy anyway, so I knew I couldn’t count on her) just sat on the bed, about 3-5 feet away from the pile & therefore the roach, and just looked at me. Orion’s face looked like I had just woken him up with my outburst (which I hadn’t: they’d gotten up even before me), and they both stared at me as though they had no idea what I was going on about and were just fine where they were.
I should throw in here somewhere the fact that I am in no way afraid of bugs, or really any of the typical things that scare females: I’m the middle child, the only girl in my family, and I was usually the one doing the dirty work & killing the bugs in my house. However, I do get a little shocked/scared when any unknown “something” jumps out at me or from underneath an item I just picked up (isn’t everyone?), and, let’s face it: when a freeloading cat (no matter how cute) decides that he likes killing bugs, who isn’t going to take advantage of that? So, naturally, I tried to get him to kill the bug, but he just sat there, looking bored.
So, the “damsel in distress” went and put on a pair of shoes, picked up the pile of laundry, and stomped the bug. Here’s the funny part: five minutes later, Orion gets his lazy tail off the bed, starts walking around, and smells the bug. He was still sniffing around trying to find it when I left for work.
Moral of this story: if you want protection, don’t trust a cat, and if you’re a damsel in distress you’re just going to have to kill the bugs yourself.