Cat Apology

cat_apology

Cat Apology by Hillel Groovatti

We had been together for five years through thick and thin and I knew he was pissed off, rightfully so.

I was sitting in my downtown Austin, Texas apartment when my buddy Carl came over. He was way down in the mouth and moody. We had both gone to UT together and had both recently graduated. Carl’s tall and wiry, with brown hair, buckteeth and a devilish smile. He mostly keeps to himself, but when he’s in need of company, he comes over and hangs out at my place, smokes my stuff and raids my fridge.

He made himself comfortable on my sofa and looked like he had just been sucker punched so I asked what was bothering him. He simply said, “I miss my cat, man.” We got high and after he chilled a bit, he told me this crazy story about his cat. Now please keep in mind that this is his story, not mine, so no hate mail. And although he was as high as the moon, I believe his story to be one hundred percent accurate. Below are the details in Carl’s own words.




I had to apologize to my cat the other day. It’s a long story, but essentially this is what went down.

My cat, Sebastian, was sitting on the couch a few weeks ago getting high, eating catnip and playing with my laser pointer.

I was in a bad mood, had just gotten home from a tough day at work, so I yelled at him to smoke outside. He knows better than to get high inside. I’ve told him a million times! Reluctantly, he went out to the porch and continued smoking there, where he’s supposed to smoke.

A few days after that, I was on the very same couch, getting high, eating chips and playing video games in the very same living room where I had previously told Sebastian not to get baked. Seebs, jumped in through an open window and froze when he saw me. He couldn’t believe that I was doing exactly what I had told him not to do!

Just to be a dick, he casually sauntered over to my smartphone with a shit-eating grin. My bloodshot eyeballs followed him the whole way, like watching a dream that I had no control over. I was too damn high to do anything except say, “Don’t you do it!” Cuz I knew what was coming. We had been together for five years through thick and thin and I knew he was pissed off, rightfully so.

He slowly crouched over my smartphone, which was charging on a desk out of reach, and looked right at me. “No, don’t you do it Sebastian,” I yelled, but my warning fell on deaf ears.

Suddenly, he pissed on my brand new iPhone!

I was livid, but again, too stoned to do anything immediately, except throw my shoe at him. He quickly ran away while I sat quietly and stewed and plotted.

The next day was Sunday and Seebs liked to wake up late, have a bite, and then troll the neighborhood for some feline companionship. I waited patiently till he hopped out the window.

Unbeknownst to him, I had carefully crafted my revenge. After he left, I executed my devious plan. Firstly, let me reiterate that I was extremely angry that he had pissed on my iPhone! Furious! That was way uncool! I was so angry, in fact, that I pissed all over his litter box and left a huge shit right in the center of it. My massive turd was covered in corn and I don’t mean to brag, but it was a real masterpiece! But look, I’m not proud of it; however, at the time it seemed like a great idea!

Sebastian rambled on in around midnight and curled up next to me on the couch while I binge watched vids on Netflix. The whole time I acted like nothing was wrong. I petted him as I usually do, poured out some milk, then eventually went to bed.

I went to work the following Monday and when I returned he had obviously visited his litter box and seen my little surprise. I know this because I walked into my bedroom and he had retaliated: He had sprayed my entire room with his cat essence. I mean, he doused everything in my room. You can’t get that smell out! It’s gross too!

This was full on war, game on! Not to be outdone, I went to the pet store the very next evening and bought the most ridiculous cat costume that I could find. It was a Hello Kitty outfit with a big white hat wrapped with a pink ribbon, a red bow tie, white and pink pants, a pink top and red booties. I threw in a tiny curly blonde wig too. Just for shits and grins, I also bought one of those cones that vets make animals wear so they won’t pull out their stitches.

Once I got home, I put it all on Sebastian, giggling the entire way. Once fully on, it was classic, the costume made him look like a pouting princess. It was purrfect! It was so good that I made him wear the cone and that humiliating outfit for an entire week!

He was incensed, but it was the funniest damn thing to watch him stroll around the house wearing that cute outfit and that gawd-awful cone that looked like a lampshade. I pissed myself laughing each and every day. However, he was so infuriated that he wouldn’t even stay in the same room with me and he never went outside, not even once.

After a week, I took pity on him and removed the cone and his cute costume. He immediately ran outside and wasn’t around the following morning when I left for work. I knew he was pissed off, but I didn’t realize just how angry he was.

That night, when I got back from work I was shocked! He had really taken it to the next level! He had gone on a rampage! He had scratched up all my shit: TV, computers, my guitars, my bedding, my books, my couch, practically everything!

I was fucking fuming and had no recourse but to cut off his balls! I didn’t do it myself, of course, went to a vet and had Sebastian neutered. I did! That shit he did to my stuff just ain’t right! He took it too far! You can’t destroy another dude’s property, that just ain’t cool.

After the operation, Sebastian came home from the vet’s all drugged up and wobbly like a drunken old man. I carefully laid him on the sofa and he immediately turned his back to me. Wherever I sat or went about the apartment, he turned away from me.

Once he regained some semblance of normalcy, he took out his little suitcase, put in some catnip, a few scratchy toys, his laser pointer, a one hitter, then put on his cap and left.




I looked over at Carl after taking a huge bong hit and could see a tear welling up in his eye. He really missed that cat!

“As Sebastian was leaving,” Carl said, “I told him that I was sorry, I did, I said it! But sorry wasn’t cutting it, not this time. And I haven’t seen hide nor hair of ‘em since.”

Carl wiped his eyes, took a huge bong hit and let it set in. He exhaled a thick plume of smoke and then continued, “You know what? Cats really aren’t finicky, they are assholes! I mean, come on, really! After all I did for that cat, after all we’ve been through, it up and walks out on me! Real douchy!”

The End.

What does your cat do to piss you off and how do you get back at your cat, please comment below.

Previously on Groovatti.com

Image courtesy Kaz at Pixaby.

Hillel Groovatti is the author of the short fiction collection entitled Totally Losing Face and Other Stories.

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