GrodsCorp

Who’d own pets?

Friday 7 September 2007, 1:57 pm

Categories: Napoleon

So I get home from work the other day and Napoleon’s nowhere to be seen. Unusual but no big deal; although the fact his food hasn’t been touched all day is a bit weird.

At 7pm there’s still no sign of The Schmoogle (as McBec calls him) and we start to get a bit worried. Napoleon has always popped in for a few cuddles and snacks by this time.

At 10pm Napoleon still isn’t home and our concern is heightened. We do a few laps of the area calling his name and nervously looking in gutters for flat fur. No joy.

At midnight there is what can only be described as full-blown panic. I grab a torch, wander the streets, and do a tour inside the abandoned factory across the road. I go home with a terrible feeling of loss in my stomach. The cat’s gone — either dead or lost.

We sleep with the front window open in case Napoleon arrives during the night and I wake at 3am to check his bed and other favourite sleeping spots. Nothing. I lay awake for the next four hours feeling immense sadness and a gap in my life, trying hard to rationalise the emotions I feel for a stupid animal.

At 7am I crawl out of bed and sit on the lounge staring at the scratching post I made for Napoleon. I wonder how long I should leave it in the loungeroom before moving it to the shed. I look at the bowl of food, untouched for 24 hours.

McBec comes back from her jog and finds Napoleon sitting casually on the front porch, like nothing has happened at all. He’s got about four layers of grease covering his fur, evidence of a night of adventure in the factory across the road. He has no idea about the pain he’s caused us because he’s a cat. In the space of a few seconds my black mood turns white. The grey and lifeless world turns beautiful. The gap left by my missing cat has been filled.

I grab Napoleon from McBec’s arms, hug him fiercely, and then consider kicking the little bastard across the room. Who’d own pets?

16 Comments

Bridgit Gread (Friday 7 September 2007, 6:35 pm) #

He’s got about four layers of grease covering his fur, evidence of a night of adventure in the factory across the road.

…or a narrow escape from the kitchens of the Silky Apple.
Bruce (Friday 7 September 2007, 6:41 pm) #

…or a narrow escape from the kitchens of the Silky Apple.

I’ll play the token stereotypical PC latte-lefty and stare at Bridgit, tap my foot and point at the door that has a sign above “no Asian restaurant jokes allowed.”
Bridgit Gread (Friday 7 September 2007, 7:53 pm) #

Obviously you’ve never eaten at the Silky Apple, Bruce.
Bruce (Friday 7 September 2007, 8:47 pm) #

I don’t even like the sound of the words “Silky Apple”. Sounds too much like “Shiny Helmet”.
Bridgit Gread (Friday 7 September 2007, 9:06 pm) #

Ewwww.

I see Iain;Hall has had another crack at you today Bruce, though he misses the point and sounds as gormless as ever. I enjoy the irony of him highlighting your spelling mistakes, particularly the ones that aren’t mistakes.
Bruce (Friday 7 September 2007, 10:25 pm) #

That word “gormless” has been doing the rounds a lot lately. I reckon I’ve heard it more times this year than in every year before put together.

I’ve heard it applied (off-line) to the chap who’s the topic of this post, off-line by the same guy in relation to Iain Hall* and off-line in relation to someone I won’t name (who you know of) by others I won’t name.

I just find it weird when this stuff gets repeated by people completely in isolation from each other. I don’t know you in real life do I Bridgit?

* I’ve got a few friends who read my blog but don’t comment, and when we get together for drinks and the like, people ask about “what’s the story with that idiot?” (usually asking generally about trolls rather than Iain specifically). Them Intertubes certainly propagate the gormless.
CK (Friday 7 September 2007, 11:28 pm) #

Actually I rally (that was my Katherine Hepburn version of “really”) detest cats, especially cute ones. Have you thought of selling him to greyhound trainers?
Bridgit Gread (Friday 7 September 2007, 11:57 pm) #

Bruce, highly doubtful that we know each other since you’re in SA and I’m in Melbourne. But if your friends are reading anything from the pen of Iain;Hall then it’s hardly surprising that their use of the word ‘gormless’ coincides with mine.
Bruce (Saturday 8 September 2007, 12:59 am) #

Yes, using the phrase gormless to describe him isn’t surprising. It’s using the phrase to describe all sorts of people when they didn’t use the phrase before. It’s like a fad or something.

Huge co-incidence of course.
Bruce (Saturday 8 September 2007, 1:00 am) #

Speaking of gormless; Napoleon’s facial expression. Gormless?
jLo (Saturday 8 September 2007, 3:19 am) #

See, the fish would never escape and go gallivanting about in the factory for an evening.

I guess the fish are quite gormless, though.
fang (Saturday 8 September 2007, 9:34 am) #

Hi Bruce, the term “gormless” was so interwebs 2005. Even though we now live in the instantaneous world of the internet, it seems SA is still a few years behind Melbourne. Hece why you may hear it IRL quite often.

I find the word “gormless” popping up now and then, however it reminds of the erect polo shirt collar fad that I hope now has died out but sometimes just sometime rears it’s ugly head.

I like how you juxtapose “intertubes” with “gormless” in one sentence though. Nice.

Regarding the whole IH spelling thing. Just have a glance at his Dr Who anecdote. I have taken the screen shots Iain so no use trying to correct it.

Here is the first sentence:

“I have been I lifelong fan of the Doctor Who series. In fact one of the anecdotes that I like to tell about my child hood concerns the time that I had an appendicitis, when I was nine.”
Kevin from Bathurst (Saturday 8 September 2007, 10:32 am) #

gormless is now a meme
Jeremy (Saturday 8 September 2007, 10:41 am) #

I’d assumed that story would end the way it usually ends with Polly: finding her sitting at the top of a cupboard laughing at me.

Last night strange noises started coming from the wardrobe and, hunt through it as I might, I couldn’t find her.

She’d sneaked into a suitcase.
fang (Saturday 8 September 2007, 12:53 pm) #

Bloody hell. I have a go at I;H for his spelling and look at mine. I rest my own case.
John Surname (Sunday 9 September 2007, 10:38 pm) #

My cat does stuff like this all the time. He makes his own rules.