Ginger — the cat from hell, alive and well

Last night my daughter Monica found my old cat Ginger in the dryer — with the door closed. Ginger was deep asleep, buried in the warm towels and clothes, perfectly happy, having found the ideal quiet, cozy spot where no one will bother her, which is all she really wants from life.

When Monica lifted Ginger out of the dryer and brought her to me my heart turned over, as it hit me what could have happened had someone turned the dryer on with Ginger inside. The dryer is in the garage—we might not have heard the thump of her little body or cries for help.

I have to tell you that Ginger is the cat from hell. I got her at the Humane Society about a hundred years ago. She was in the cage (back then there was no Cat Room where cats can wander and play as they please) right next to the really sweet cat that I had picked out. But I felt sorry for Ginger, so scrawny, short -haired, not cute or adoptable looking. So, as an afterthought, out of the goodness of my heart, I asked if I could take her too. The Humane Society let me have Ginger for free and I’ve been paying the price ever since.

The first thing Ginger did upon arrival was chase off the other cat I adopted that day. I never saw that cat again and hoped it found a home with one of my neighbors. Until Ginger arrived on the scene I always had several cats. But each time someone brought me a stray, no matter if I kept the newcomer locked up in my bedroom to try to acclimate him or her to its new abode, sooner or later Ginger’s hissing and utter selfishness would drive the poor innocent off.

Until one day Monica told me that her friend’s cat had had kittens and now that they were weaned they were on the way to the Humane Society because the friend’s dad would not let her keep them. “Call her up, ” I said immediately. “We’ll take them!” An hour later the most beautiful, fluffy creatures arrived. We named them Princess Priscilla and Leo the Lion. Being kittens, they paid absolutely no mind to Ginger’s hissing and threatening flicks of her paw. They played all day and grew up to be fat, snuggly, long-haired cats. While Ginger sleeps alone in the most private quarters she can find, Leo and Priscilla sleep in my nice warm bed, like normal cats.

While writing this I heard a terrible hacking sound coming out of the bathroom. When I ran to check, I saw Ginger throwing up watery bile with grass and hairy clumps all over the fancy scales that an old boyfriend gave me during my menopausal years when he was worried about me gaining weight. After I wiped the mess up I noticed that some of the brown watery stuff had seeped inside the scales, floating under the glass, where the numbers are. I’ll try not to take it as a sign from God.

One Response to “Ginger — the cat from hell, alive and well”

  1. Sunny Bower Says:

    Honey badger don’t care, but kitty bitch Ginger— has your back!
    Hidden blessings abound.
    Thanks for the laugh Suza and for reminding us that our furry companions need some extra comfort and warmth as the days grow brief and the season chills.


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