Angry days and dogfood

December 7, 2007

  

I bought my cat dog food last night. I’m not proud of it, but I did it. I’m going to have to complain a little to explain why; I’m not real proud of that either.

  My cable bill was due on the 4th [1]. On the 3rd I realized they were serious and considered going; only it was snowing that real sleazy wet snow that just pisses me off. So I waited a day. On the afternoon of the 4th proper I walked into Rogers, paid my bill in full, and…after they processed the payment, they informed me my account had been marked for disconnection a couple hours before, so there would be a 100ish $ fee to reactivate it. I have rarely hated as purely as I did in that moment.  I wanted to smash his gap toothed fucking face, with his clacky fucking keyboard, until you couldn’t tell one from the other. Instead I thanked him for his time, and informed him I would consider the information I’d been given.

 Upon my returning to work I was informed there had been a staffing change and my December vacation was being pulled. This gutted some happy plans, and required a few apologetic phone calls…which I could not make, since my little whore of a cell phone sold me out (see subsection A).  After work I hit the gym and tried to survive my trainer’s attempts to break me.  I then splattered my way home through two feet of scum slush, exhausted, cold, and dejected. So much so I forgot to purchase food for my cat[2].

 When I got home said cat was glaring at me with such loathing I was forced to trudge back outside, and down to the Quickie. They had no cat food. There was no reason they should be out; no cat circus bus broken down outside, they just had none. So I start thinking “Hey, Dog food is essentially cat food, only bigger. So that’s got to better, right?”.  Upon returning home I discovered that dog food is composed of an indestructible polymer, and smells of Owls left out in the rain. My cat fought her way through a few mouthfuls, glaring and hissing all the while, then curled into a desolate ball on my bed…abandoned by fate.

 I did my best to make it palatable: Smashing it into smaller pieces with ten lbs weights; soaking it in hot water, then microwaving it into a dog food stew; dumping it into a huge pot and sorting out the smaller catfood size pieces by hand. To her, it remained poison. Eventually I relented, walking the few blocks to a store that could provide real catfood, and lighten the terrible haze of failure surrounding me.

 That huge pot of Dogfood is now sitting on my trunk, a shameful reminder of my duplicitous feeding tactics, and generally shoddy day.  

****

   Subsection A :  Nice things will only let you down

  My new pay as you go cell phone, also by Rogers, decided to stage a sympathy strike in support of its High Speed/Cable TV union brothers. This does not surprise me in the least: I never trusted, or really bonded in any way, with that phone. It stole minutes from me, sabotaged it’s camera, and always claimed I had two messages no matter how many times I checked them. When I called the company they told me my account was fine and I just needed to buy more minutes. I bought more minutes and the phone refused to accepted them, telling me only “EMERGENCY USE ONLY”. It wasn’t broken; it just didn’t consider my needs sufficiently urgent to bother with.  What the fuck is my cell phone doing that is so important that it can’t even take my money?!  I can only assume it was calling the main computer at Rogers and laughing about the sweet screw job they just laid down. The phone is an asshole and I am done with it.

  In contrast, I have returned to my beloved busted old party phone. It features consist of calling people, and occasionally allowing people to call me. And yeah, it doesn’t ring all the time (and sometimes that ring sort dies out into a pained wheeze)…and it might take two of three tries to turn it on, but goddamn if it doesn’t give me everything it has in it. This phone took a two hour hot tub soaking and was still sending text messages about how grateful it was to drown in my pocket. I never should have left it.

——————————–

[1] And by due, I mean “In 24 hours we’ll burn your whole life down if you don’t pay” , overdue.

[2] This took on special urgency as it had been two day since I possessed proper cat food. The day before she’d been given milk with roast beef floating in it; that morning peanut butter smeared on the edge of her bowl. Yes, I am shabby pet owner.

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14 Responses to “Angry days and dogfood”

  1. sabretooth Says:

    http://icanhascheezburger.com/2007/12/01/dis-so-rong-but-tast-so-rite/

    Maybe it’s not that you have the wrong food, so much as the wrong cat.


  2. “Maybe it’s not that you have the wrong food, so much as the wrong cat.”

    You are getting right to the heart of the terrible distance between Felica, and I. At this point we are just waiting for the other die…or the other to KILL!

  3. Jive Says:

    A.J. your rants always make me laugh.. the image of the baby with its head in the dog dish really brings the whole piece together. That being said, your rants are usually about your own suffering.. so one might conclude that by finding them funny I am enjoying your misery which really isn’t what I’m about but I can’t deny the logic. So, in effect your rants make me laugh and then make me feel guilty and then vaguely sad. Sort of like a drunken escapade with a cougar I met on elgin street. It’s a complete cathartic package.. you can take that as a compliment to your writing ability or a comment on my own state of mind. I leave it to you.

  4. nursemyra Says:

    oh that’s so heart warming… you trudged out in the slush to get your cat some food…

    your story just made my heart beat faster. I have my hand on my breast feeling it right now….

  5. baredfeetandteeth Says:

    I think the world hates you :(

  6. Monkey Says:

    Jive’s on to something … I too go through a similar range of emotions while reading AJ’s blog-like pieces.

    However, having lived with a writer for most of my life (my dad) I also know that reality and the way it is portrayed is a very coy type of game. That being said, I’ve seen AJ pull a few things in real life that had me asking “is this guy for real?”

    So basically, from what I know, the pieces are almost entirely full frontal naked truth … but then again, I haven’t stalked the man in a while now, so I can’t be completely sure.

  7. Monkey Says:

    test (please ignore)

  8. sabretooth Says:

    In my experience anything that A.J. tells you entails equal parts disconcerting honesty and ridiculous fabrication. The joy… or maddening challenge, depending how you look at it… is in trying to figure out which is which.


  9. “In my experience anything that A.J. tells you entails equal parts disconcerting honesty and ridiculous fabrication.’

    It’s all truth, baby. Some of it just has more of a real world antecedent.


  10. “So basically, from what I know, the pieces are almost entirely full frontal naked truth … but then again, I haven’t stalked the man in a while now, so I can’t be completely sure.”

    I’ve grown wiley, and difficult to track in my old age.


  11. ” So, in effect your rants make me laugh and then make me feel guilty and then vaguely sad.”

    Poppa Aj knows how to Schadenfreudeian whip.

  12. Rodney Says:

    It’s been my belief that A.J. is constantly trying to prove that Einstein’s theory that reality is what you make of it is indisputable.

  13. thekenji Says:

    It’s my opinion that writers sometimes make things true in retrospect. Maybe you didn’t exactly feel that way when the event was occurring, but recalling the memory brings up those emotions, and what’s more you honestly believe you should’ve felt that way or you *were* feeling that way but it was just that another emotion (such as rage or humiliation) was masking it.

    Really, it all just leads to the same thing anyway: Nothing matters except the caress of a sandwich.

  14. engtech Says:

    Sort of like a drunken escapade with a cougar I met on elgin street.

    ok Jive, now I know someone wasn’t spilling the beans about that night.


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