Bitch on the Onion

My sisters and I went to Catholic grammar school, but in 5th grade, I put my foot down and refused to go to school anymore. I was done with those people. I knew, even at the age of 10, that this just was not a good scene for someone like me.

My decision to stop going to school was not one I made lightly. Looking back on it, this small act of civil disobedience may have saved my very life. You see, I am one of those people who was born with an all-encompassing abyss of self-loathing. If my sister got punished, it was my fault. If our father was screaming and angry it was because I was a bad kid. At this point in life, I am tired of trying to figure out why this is or whose fault it is, I have just accepted that it is and that’s that.

I have a very vivid memory of being in 3rd grade at St. Philip Neri. I was sitting in Miss Lakey’s class with 29 other good Catholic boys and girls and we were reading a story out of our religion textbook/workbook. You are going to think I am making this up, but I assure you, I am not.

It was a story about a woman who was selfish and mean. She was so mean that when she died, she went to hell. While she was sitting in hell with all the other bad and evil people, she prayed to God to remove her from hell. God spoke to her and said, “You were mean and selfish your whole life. Why should I remove you from Hell? Tell me one time you weren’t selfish.”

The woman racked her boiling brain (yes, there was a cartoon drawing of her and the others drowning in flames) and remembered that one time a homeless person asked her for something to eat and she gave him an onion from her garden. So, she relayed the story of her selflessness to God.

God agreed that she had done something nice and sent down a giant onion from heaven. He told her she should grab onto the onion and he would pull her up to heaven. (Yes, there was a cartoon drawing of this image as well. Is it any wonder at all I am nuts?)

The giant onion comes down and she grabs on. When the other poor souls see her rising out of hell, they grab on to her feet. She gets scared that they are going to pull her off the onion and ruin her chances of getting out, so she ever-so-slightly starts shaking her feet to knock the dirty sinners off her onion. As soon as she does this, the onion vanishes and she plummets back to her fate of eternal damnation.

And God, I think kind of spitefully, tells her, “See, I told you. You are a selfish bitch. Fuck you, dirty whore.” OK, I might be paraphrasing that part, but I swear, that is what I heard.

That story has some really heavy concepts in it. I mean, these are things that most wise adults have a hard time grasping – love of all mankind, absolute selflessness, an acquired taste for onions. Why, I ask you, why on earth was this terrifying story in the religion textbook for 3rd graders?

Maybe they figured kids would say to themselves, “Ah yes Master, thus I will strive to be more selfless and loving.”

Well, what I thought is, “Oh shit, I am that bitch on the onion.” What else would someone who hates herself think?

That single experience and story dictated my entire relationship with organized religion for the better part of my life. It offered me no comfort or solace, but instead, I viewed God and religion as spiteful tricksters who could see through my normal exterior to my dark and irreversibly damaged soul. In short, I was fucked.

There are times that I am still that little girl. I feel like everyone else is kind and generous and got the memo about loving yourself and others and that I am sitting alone, engulfed in flames.

Obsession anyone?

The SPCA dropped off the cat traps today. We set them up and in 30 minutes we caught a cat. A big cat. A very well-fed cat. At first, I was excited, almost vindicated. And then it started making that horrible noise that cats make that is somewhere between a howl and a growl. Then I kind of felt bad for the fat bastard.

Still, I called the SPCA and a very tired looking animal control officer came out and picked up the cat. While he was here, he got a call that a dog had been shot, so he had to leave in a hurry.

I am starting to realize why the animal activists hate humans.

But, I looked up and saw the incarcerated cat's 49 friends looking at me from their lair on the neighbor's stoop. And I relaized that it was 1 down, 49 to go and I shook my fist at those ferocious felines and whispered, "Vengenace will be mine you pooping pussies."

I feel a lot like Chevy Chase from Caddy Shack or maybe even that jilted woman who drove across country wearing adult diapers.

What's that snapping sound?

This is the email I sent to the neighborhood association email list. I will tell you this, and make sure you make a note of it - don't fuck with the animal activists. They "love" animals, but trust me, they are none too fond of humans, especially the human young. I believe they find them to be a nuisance and they would indeed embrace a modest proposal.

Additionally, who knew it was a crime to shoot at cats with a BB gun?

Hello. Most of you likely do not know me, but you probably know my
husband, Mike Ernst. I am his wife, Claire. I am a relatively easy-
going person. I don't generally get excited about much and not much
in life bothers me enough to do anything more than shrug about it.
So, the following rant should be taken with that in mind.

The woman who lives across the street from us "owns" somewhere in the
neighborhood of 35-50 cats. I use the term "owns" very loosely
because to say one owns an animal implies that one actually cares for
and responsibly manages that animal by having it fixed, getting
annual shots and providing a collar with a tag.

This woman only owns these animals in the sense that she feeds them.
All of them. This allows them to congregate on her front lawn, fight
with each other and the properly owned cats in the neighborhood and,
you guessed it, treat the surrounding yards as a giant litter box and
maternity ward.

Every morning I walk out of my house to the rank and offensive odor
of cat feces. How can it be so offensive, you ask? Well, if you have
ever had a cat or even 2, you know that the litter box can get quite
odiferous after just a couple of days. Now, imagine that your house
and all its belongings were shrunk to the size of a cat turd and that
the litter box became your neighborhood. Now, imagine that the litter
box that you now call home is being used like a port-a-let at Mardi
Gras by every drunken unfixed Tom in the neighborhood.

And, to continue the carnival theme, imagine that the girls really
have gone wild, and now they are plopping out multiple litters a year
of more cats that will either grown up to use your yard as the public
john or, an only slightly better scenario is that they will all die
of starvation or disease under your house and you will only know they
are there because of the reeking stench of decomp rising up through
the floorboards in your kitchen.

I have called the SPCA, we have spoken to the neighbor, we have
thrown rocks at them, we have shot at them with a BB gun, we have
begged and pleaded and even resorted to REMOVING THE GRASS on our
side of the block between the street and the sidewalk and replacing
it with brick. That only encouraged them to actually jump the fence
into our yard and crap right where we walk. I pay upwards of $1400
per month on my mortgage to live in a feline shithouse. My three year
old walks out the front door every morning and says, "Yuck, cat
pooh."

I know you don't know me, but if you did, you would know I am
actually an animal lover. I have 2 dogs. I used to have a cat until
it disappeared and possibly has been assimilated by the coven across
the street. I was a vegetarian for over 6 years. I even have a tattoo
of a dog paw on my ankle to express my undying love of my old dog,
Sam.

I don't actually hate the cats because I know they are not the real
problem, but I will go to jail if I shoot at the owner with a bb gun.

Any advice?
_________________________________________________________________________

And here is the follow-up email I sent out after people told me to shoot myself with the BB gun:

Hi Everyone-This is Claire again. OK, first, thanks for all your responses. I never use this forum so I had no idea I would get so many responses. Really, don't you guys have jobs? HA! HA! Just Kidding. Second, come on now folks, do you really think we are hitting the cats with the bb gun? Even if we were that good of a shot, it wouldn't hurt them. It's not like it's a shot gun. Besides, did I not say we are animal lovers? And, if we wanted the cats dead, trust me, they would be dead and we would not have asked for your help. So quit with the "oh the humanity" and "it's not the cats' fault" stuff. Seriously, does that work on anyone? We get that. We get that it is the fault of the lady feeding the cats. So pipe down. Third, many of you have offered to loan us traps and help us catch them. Thank you very much and I will be in touch. I think this route, combined with other actions (pepper spray on the lawn, sensor sprinklers,etc) we will take. The reason we did not do this before is, I know this will be shocking to those of you who have lost faith in humanity, WE FELT BAD TAKING THE WOMAN'S "CHILDREN." Sure, I hate the cats crapping in the lawn and I think the woman is a little wacky, but these vermin are her babies and I actually feel bad trapping them and bringing them to the SPCA where they will likely be euthanized. So, I was hoping someone might have some ideas that I had not thought of that would be a win-win - she gets to keep her barrel o' kitties and I get to have a poop-free lawn. In the grand scheme of life, this is a tiny problem and I totally get that. I am not looking for someone else to "fix" my problems. Sure, it would be nice if there was a way to get this person to say have 3 or 4 properly treated cats, but I don't know what her story is. We have tried talking to her and something isn't jiving, so there is really nothing we can do there. And sure, it would be nice if this city was the kind of city that had money/time/ability to care about stuff like this, but it's not and likely never will be. It's p art of our "charm." [insert bitter sarcasm] So, thanks for all your help neighbors! [DO NOT insert sarcasm...this is sincere] We really appreciate all of your ideas and suggestions! Claire & Mike & Max

Kittens

I just re-read my post on cats from yesterday and realize now that I was kind of nuts. I actually insinuated that I would be happy if a horrible accident would befall my neighbor. Oh my! How terrible! I would only be happy that the cats would quit crapping on my lawn. It would just be a happy coincidence, like getting a big life insurance check or something like that.

Today I am still mad about the cats, but I am not consumed with hatred and rage. Yesterday, I could have gone to jail for a cause or protested something terrible or maybe even signed a petition or two, but today, I am back to being apathetic me. I don't really care too much about anything except what I am going to eat for lunch and how I would rearrange the furniture of I had the energy and the brute strength and the will.

This is the me I actually kind of like. That hateful and rageful person I was yesterday was the person I used to be all the time. Up until around 30, I was just a pill, a bitter, bitter pill. I was filled with anger about the injustices in the world and how horrible life was for so many people, including myself. And how no one really "knew" me and how if they did, they would "understand." It makes me cringe just to think about what an asshole I was.

That's not to say I can't be a total asshole now, it's just not my default setting like it used to be. Which is really nice. It's hard to be so pissed off all the time. It take a lot of energy. And frankly, I am just not as young as I used to be.

Life is just a little easier these days...except for the damn cats.

Cats

I am super-fucking annoyed right now. The crazy lady who lives across the street from me, let's call her Judy, because that's her name, is going to push me over the edge. Judy is a thin black woman who seems relatively harmless. I think she works. She leaves the house everyday like she has a job. I think she also goes to church. Whatever. I have no respect or disrespect for church-going folk whether they are black or white. My apathy-verging-on-annoyance attitude toward church is not racist - I equally distrust all races when it comes to organized religion.

Anyway, Judy has these cats. They're not really her cats in the sense that she takes them to the vet or gets them spayed or neutered or, say, PROVIDES THEM WITH A FUCKING LITTER BOX. They are "her" cats because she feeds them. And she leaves her front door cracked all day so they can come in and out. And she provides them with a space to have hundreds of litters of new kittens that will shit and sometimes die under my old and drafty house so that my house, that I pay 1400 hundred fucking dollars for each month on a mortgage that seems like will never reduce in principal, yes this house smells like cat shit every fucking morning. So much so that my three year old son wakes up each morning and says, "Yuck, what's that smell?"

So, I went online today and googled "how to kill cats." I am done with this. I want to kill the cats so they won't crap in my lawn, under my house, on my car, in the flowerbeds or anywhere, ever again.

Those of you who know me well know that I am actually an animal lover. I was a vegeterian for over 6 years, I have rescued countless dogs and cats, I even have a tattoo of a freakin' paw on my ankle. And yet, I am going to kill 25 cats before the week is out. Why? BECAUSE I WILL GO TO JAIL IF I KILL JUDY. And, my freinds, that is who I really want to kill. I want to trap her in a big trap using cheese or tuna as the bait and bring her to the SPCA so they can euthanize her. And then I will be rid of the source of all the problems, but I won't have to feel bad about it because the SPCA euthanized her and eveyone knows they only do that because they have to and I am sure they all cry every Thursday when they burn all the carcasses, blah, blah, blah.

I called the SPCA and told them that if they did not come and do something about these cats I was going to start taking them out one by one. They called my back within minutes and told me they would bring traps and I could catch the cats and bring them to the SPCA for spay and neuter. Oh I am going to catch them alright and then when I kill them it will be like shooting fish in a pond. Because not having a vagina or testicles does not mean they will stop making my property a giant fucking litter box.

Mark my words gentle friends, by the end of November, the only thing taking a dump in my front yard will be my retarded dog Kenny. And if Judy has an unfortunate accident, well, then Virginia, yes there is a Santa Claus, isn't there?