Sensitive Sort

10 Feb

To start things off, I will begin with: I was never yelled at.
I know, I don’t understand it either. The other women at church used to tease my mother lightly that the worst I would get when I misbehaved was a “ah-ah-ah” and a metronome finger.

Due to never hearing a loud noise until kindergarten, I remember being ultra sensitive to any kind of raised voices, angry looks, etc. At one point, I hid in my best friend’s closet while she was being yelled at until her parents had to come and extricate me.
And this is where that memory was born.
I was coming home from that same best friend’s house. She lived two doors down from me, which made me the luckiest girl in the world because I could play with my best friend any time I wanted to. It had to have either been winter vacation, or a Saturday.
The way I remember the light, you see.
It wasn’t a glaring summer sun, although it was the middle of the day.
I spotted my neighbors cat under the shrub of the house between mine and my best friend’s.

I loved animals.
My parents wouldn’t let me have a pet, but I wanted one so bad. I was going to catch this cat and pet it for a while, assuaging the wanting for a minute or two.
I crept. I tiptoed. Ok, screw this sneaking… I’m going to catch this cat!
I ran up the sidewalk as the cat bolted out from under the shrub, across the street toward it’s house and safety.
There was two cars presently driving up my usually pretty untravelled road, the first one clipped the cat’s rear end.
Almost 25 years later, I can still see the cat’s back side swerving back and forth like a stock car about to hit a wall as it scrambled the rest of the way across the street, under a gate and then gone.
As I stood on the curb open mouthed, the second car screeched to a halt. (The car that had hit the cat had just kept on going)
I recognized the dark SUV as belonging to my neighbor from across the street, and when she flew out of the driver’s seat, I recognized the woman as the owner of the cat.
I knew her vaguely. She had two older boys, so I didn’t know her well.
She ran over to me and raged that I had killed her cat, and how dare I chase her cat into the street, and… honestly it’s all a swirl of colors and sounds, what she actually said. I waited for her to finish, interjecting apologies as tears threatened my eyes. When she left me, aghast on the curb, I ran home and locked myself into the den. I cried for hours and refused to come out. My mom only found out when the lady came over to inform us that the cat was okay and she would not be calling the police.

I didn’t give a crap about the police… take me to jail! I’m a cat murderer!
Well, almost…
I just wanted to pet the damn thing.
Well, you know… I never touched another frickin’ one of her cats again.

10 Responses to “Sensitive Sort”

  1. Jennifer @ The Mommy Mambo February 10, 2011 at 5:19 pm #

    What a nasty b….! sorry. I’m not a real cat lover! Good story!

    • justmom420zaks February 10, 2011 at 8:33 pm #

      Ah… she wasn’t an incredible person.
      Also, I realize now, as an adult, that one of her sons who was something like 4-5 years older than me was always trying to talk me into going off with him places.
      I was glad when they moved.
      Funny thing… they left most of their cats!

  2. Jessica February 10, 2011 at 5:34 pm #

    Totally not a cat lover, great story!

    • justmom420zaks February 10, 2011 at 8:35 pm #

      Thanks!
      I don’t dislike cats. Even this traumatic experience didn’t really change that.
      So now, one sleeps on my head. Hmmm… might have been better if I had been turned off of cats at 6.
      Food for thought.

  3. Melissa February 10, 2011 at 6:19 pm #

    Some people really are just that stupid. It’s not like you chased the cat into the street on purpose. Cats are twitchy creatures at best. Perhaps she should have thought about that before she let her cat roam about in the outside world, and not blamed it on an innocent child.

    • justmom420zaks February 10, 2011 at 8:38 pm #

      That’s totally true.
      Letting your cats roam is asking for diseases, pregnancies and car injuries… where I live, throw coyote attacks into the mix.
      I will keep my twitchy cat on my head, thank you. No cat I’ve owned has ever been allowed outside.
      (Watch, now crazy people will attack me for that.)
      I used to work at an animal shelter, and I can tell you. Cats outside=bad news

  4. NotJustAnotherJennifer February 10, 2011 at 7:30 pm #

    Oh my goodness, that’s terrible! You poor thing.

    LOVE the “metronome finger”! Found you from Twitter. :)

    • justmom420zaks February 10, 2011 at 8:43 pm #

      Grownups scare me.
      Even now and I’m 30.
      I’m glad someone got the “metronome finger” visual. I didn’t know how else to type that. The “ah-ah-ah” also gradually raises pitch at the end too.
      If my mom had yelled at me growing up, I may not have been so traumatized by psycho-cat-attempted-molester-son-lady from across the street.

  5. MommyLisa February 10, 2011 at 8:19 pm #

    Hate CATS??? Cats are TWITCHY CREATURES AT BEST??? What kind of world have a fallen into today – someone at work said they hated cats right to my face and I have ONE!

    Bah.

    Sorry about the lady yelling at you.

    • justmom420zaks February 10, 2011 at 8:47 pm #

      I love cats.
      I was as crushed by the fact I may have been a cat murderer as I was that the lady yelled at me. See previous comments about my purring night-hat.
      I still make Korean restaurant jokes… sometimes to my cat’s face. Those usually follow her jumping onto my dinner plate.

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