Yay for cryptozoology. There have been some stories in the news lately about strange creatures, like this one from Webster, Massachusetts. Honestly, the video was pretty great, and because I’ve gotten wicked good at making out what the fuck is that thing that the Ring doorbell picked up at 3 am (it’s a coyote. It’s a cat. It’s a giant spider right over the lens. It’s a bunch of drunk neighbor kids singing “Don’t Stand So Close to Me.”) I put together what it was pretty quick. The whys of it are potentially sort of hilarious when you think.
This video was a cat, a big cat — a big, domestic cat. It had to be a Maine Coon cat, or it had some in the mix. I mean, it’s sorta hard to get a feel for the size because perspective and shit, but it did look larger than the usual house cat (and we have had some giant feral cats that look more house catty than this kitty did.) But it definitely looks… off. I am not sure if all Maine Coon cats have long hair (most I have seen are like goddamn woolly mammoths)… but this cat didn’t have short hair. It didn’t have long hair. Did somebody shave the cryptid feline? Another neighbor in the news story said that the cat made a noise that was not at all catlike, which just about describes every noise I’ve heard come out of a cat. “Meow” my ass, Fluffy. I know Maine Coon cats are distinctive for their non-cat sounding range, however.
So they knew it wasn’t a coyote (clearly) and it wasn’t a fox (it didn’t move right). It was, indeed, a shaved cat. This pandemic is hard, yo. Someone was like, “I am going crazy in here. I need something to take the edge off. I know… I’ll shave the cat.”
Or… the vet is only doing virtual appointments or is seeing a significantly reduced number of patients (we have run into this. We have three pugs. We see the vet a lot). And okay, we used some of that malt shit and now Mittens is regular again, but Mitten’s ass is a virtual holiday tree of festive dingleberries. So you cut some dingles off while Mittens is distracted. Mittens isn’t distracted enough, and she turns and swats the fuck out of you. Now Mittens has some wild avant garde haircut on her ass. Can’t have that, now, can we? So you wait, a few days, a week… then, when Mittens is asleep and least expects it, you wrap her legs in a towel and shave the living and inert crap all out of her tail, her butt, her underbits, her mane… because a cat’s self cleaning ability is largely oversold, kids. And now you have this shaved cat. A cat with weird poofs of hair there, and weird tufts of hair there… but no dingleberries. No. Dingles.
And then, Mittens is pissed and slips out the door into the wilds of your neighborhood. And you don’t have any pictures of Mittens looking like a giant shaved cryptokitty… And if you did, I mean… there’s a lot to explain there for a “LOST” poster, isn’t there? Mittens will come home (if Mittens is your cat, I hope she did come home, by the way. Not a cat person, but I can imagine the worry and heartache of a pet gone AWOL. Not a cat person, but I’m not a heartless asshole.)
Someone maybe wanted to just, y’know, get the neighborhood talking. What brings all people together? Sasquatch! Well… I don’t have a Sasquatch handy. I just have this giant cat and a Flo-bee. Let’s get up to some shit.
The update to the story confirming that the animal was, in fact, a domestic cat made me a little suspicious though. The Fisheries and Wildlife guys… blaaaah, yeah, those motherfuckers don’t want the paperwork. (Inside reference: Except for that one. If you know who I mean, you know who I mean, so shut up about it) I’m not too suspicious about them. I mean the vet… That vet knows something. Probably like, “My groomer is immunocompromised and my vet techs did not have the time or blood to give to restrain and properly trim this cat, Patient Record Number 4206969, but he is up to date on all his shots and is now regular again, and that’s what matters.”
Our Tibetan Spaniel was so anxiety as he aged, because he was a high strung kid to start who was rescued from a bad situation… As he aged, he developed heart issues and the vet told us, after his groomer was afraid she had terrified him into a coronary, that when he gets matted hair, just cut it out. He was sixteen years old, he was allowed to look all weird if that’s what it took to keep him happy.
Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures. And everyone loves a good Squatch story.