Regrettably, I need to talk about the passing of two of my favorites… Let me rephrase that: the passing of gas by Mazuzu “Mace” Whang and Jenny N.
This is another dimension to the old “fear the cat butt” slogan, such as the one I wrote about in “when the nitty gets real gritty”.
When I grew up, our cats were indoors/outdoors with a large yard in which to romp. Our current crop of kittounes are housebound, but still get plenty of exercise. So, why they should squeeze out the foulest SBDs* on a semi-regular basis, I have no clue.
There’s no competition to eat, they all have plenty and stress-free nomming sessions.
I have no idea whether Tito ever cuts the cheese, but there is no doubting the other two open up the valves of hell whenever they get heavy petting.
The most foul? Miss Jenny. That’s right, and I can tell when it’s her as the air takes on a different hue and seems to shimmer as in the summer heat. That’s just before the cloud envelops you like an overly friendly drunk who hugs you and won’t let go and follows you all the way to the window.
You best start the fan, because the fiendish aerosol hangs about for a while and sounds travels slower through it: in her farts, no one can hear you scream. It even generates its own lightning!
No. There is no silver lining to those clouds… As to Maz, you can hear the faintest “buzz”, a bit like a distant boat motor and get a look of heavy sarcasm: “there’s more room outside than inside”, it seems to say. Then you feel like someone pelted you with rotten eggs and cat food.
* SBD: Silent But Deadly