Angreeeee Kitteeeeee

This is Pandora’s Box.

This is the wickedest, angriest, creature to have ever come out of a box.

I guess if you want to get technical, I put that wretched little thing in the box to begin with but opening it was still an adventure. I his defense, he had a really bad day.

We think his day started out like any other day in the life of a feral kitten. He was frolicking with his brother, then climbed up into the engine block of a car, where it was safe and warm. Then something happened. The earth moved, the ground shook, his safe warm hiding space got warmer. He didn’t know what to do so he crawled further into the engine. When the terror stopped, he stepped out of the engine compartment and like Dorothy, realized he was not in Kansas anymore.

Apparently, there had been kitten sightings all day at work but no one had said anything to anyone else. Finally, around four o’clock, one co-worker said to another co-worker, “There’s a tiny gray kitten in the employee parking lot, right by the first car.” Co-worker number two, who we’ll call “L” said, “Wait, by the first gray car?”


“Was it really tiny and dark gray, with stripes,” asked L.


“Oh my God! That’s one of the feral kittens from my house!”

Enter the kitten wranglers. Me, sister-in-law and her best friend were attending a graduation ceremony for our most recent group of 911 dispatchers when we overheard someone mention the kitten. Our ears perked up as we are all seasoned and salty animal rescuers. After talking amongst ourselves, we decided that we would leave the festivities as soon as it was socially acceptable.

We were the finest animal rescue team you have ever seen. We were in heals and our business finery, I was even wearing my Hugo Boss suit. I call it Rescue Couture. For the next 30 minutes, we chased that poor, tiny kitten around the outside of the car and through the engine where he finally settled into a place where we would have to have broken every bone in his body to get him out. We decided to give up. Someone left him a can of tuna and we went inside to finish up some work.

A while later, just before it got dark, I decided to sneak back out there and see if he had come out of hiding. He was sitting in the engine compartment in a spot that was easy to access to I stuck my hand in there, scruffed him and out came a most furious, little ball of hate. And boy did he put up a good fight. After shredding my knuckles with his cheese grater claws, he sunk his tiny, needle point fangs into the tip of my index finger. My first instinct was to throw him but I knew if I let him go, we would never be able to catch him again. So I put him on the ground and mashed him until he let go. With blood dripping from my hand I opened my car door and shoved him into the first thing I could find, a winter hat. The kind with fur on the front and ear flaps. Then I wrapped him up like a cat burrito and shaking, we both went inside. I put the cat in the box with the hat and a can of tuna (I feel a poem coming on), washed my wounds and went to see L to declare victory. I told her how the cat went ballistic. I said ballistic is too long of a name but she should think of a good name for him because he sure was ballsy. And thus, the tiny kitten had a name: Ballzy.

When I got him home, he immediately leaped from the box and booked it to the far corner of the house where we once led us on a wild chase. This time, I got ski gloves before I tried to pick him up. Bite me once, shame on you. Bite me twice, shame on me.

So now Ballzy is quarantined in the bathroom. I took him to the vet on Saturday because he looked ill. He is but he’ll live. I am going to keep him away from my house cats because one of them is very sickly. The vet says he’s about five weeks old and he’s weighing in at a whopping 1.4 lbs (Which puts him in the super ultra featherweight category for UFC.) As soon as he’s old enough he will be neutered and sent out to the ranch where he will no doubt instantly become feral again. In the meantime, Moo has made it her mission to cuddle that terrified animal as much as she can. He’s already starting to hate it less.


5 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by jules on November 20, 2010 at 11:46

    O_o ham doesnt look like a happy camper. or in this case a happy cat…


  2. Posted by Moo on February 23, 2011 at 12:17

    Don’t let the cat out of the bag/box.


  3. […] hoping he wouldn’t bite me (I’m a little bit gun-shy about being bitten ever since I unleashed the unholy terror that was Ballsy) and picked him up. Thankfully, true to form, he played possum. I carried him back to the house, […]


  4. […] is back. Do you remember Ballzy? Of course you do, who could forget his memorable entrance into our lives. As you may remember, he was shacking up with the kids but their mother has a low tolerance for […]


  5. […] realized the other day that I haven’t introduced all of our animals. With the exception of Ballzy, none of the indoor cats have received their proper introduction. I thought I would start out with […]


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