Zaphod Bukowski

Ten days I woke up crashingly to the sound of breaking glass.  I immediately thought that someone (my ex-boyfriend) was breaking into my apartment, and fumbled for my bathrobe so I could go investigate.  In  the dull orange glow of the street lights I saw my cat crouched in the middle of the living room looking very freaked out.  Reaching him in the half-light I found a gigantic jagged piece of glass curving out of his chest.

I flipped internally, but still managed to channel enough  of my mother's calm-in-any-storm mojo to investigate.  His fur should've been soaked in blood - it wasn't.  Despite about ten inches of broken glass attached to his neck, my cat seemed fine.  Once I turned on the light I discovered the full extent of my cat's stupidity.

That's right, I said stupidity.  Cause I love my cat, and in some ways he is really intelligent (I'd say he has more emotional intelligence than many humans I know), but lately he is nothing but trouble.  Poor decision making is where the problem lies, I think.

picture this filled with kibbles

Before going to bed that evening I emptied out the canister of Zaphod's dry food, and apparently left the lid open.  And then my brilliant cat must've stuck his stupid furry face in there in the middle of the night.

And gotten stuck on the rim of the jar.

And fallen off the counter, smashing glass everywhere.

I figured this out as I examined Zaphod, who was wearing a beautiful broken glass collar with metal clamp detail.  Doesn't he look lovely Gina?  This unique piece can be yours for the price of BUY THE DAMN PET INSURANCE ALREADY.

A liberal amount of vaseline later I had my cat free, and some awesome early morning cleanup ahead of me. But everyone looks forward to thoroughly vacuuming their kitchen at 6am.

I swear, this cat is the feline incarnation of Charles Bukowski.  I feel like lately he's just an angry growly cat who goes around three days drunk picking fights and hurting himself.  Earlier this summer there was the episode of the cone.  More recently than that he had another scratch on his face and an upset tummy.  And let's not forget the car accident (I think?) last fall.  And now this.  If this is the stuff that I find out about, I don't want to know what he does when I'm not around.  So I'm keeping him under house arrest for a while.

Of course I say that and then three days later I'll let him out for his morning poo again, but I really mean it this time.  Because this morning he locked in a death match with Egypt and my neighbor had to dowse them in iced coffee to break it up.  And inevitably I found that Zaphod's paw was bloody.  I swear, it's like living with Will Hunting before he meets the girl.

The upshot is that there's got to be a video in this somewhere, right?