This Cat is Toast.

One of my new famous activities is to find “missing” signs for animals and gauge whether or not I think this animal will survive being missing.  Beyond that, I like to try to imagine what the owner is like and whether or not they deserve their animal back.  It is a wonderful exercise in studying humanity, zoomanity and geography.

A few months ago I came into contact with a sign indicating a cat named Sheba had been lost in Silver Lake.  Check it out:

Marco and Richard have lost their cat that has no teeth.  As I said earlier, no teeth raises both questions about Sheba’s survival skills and Marco & Richard’s ownership capabilities.  How did Sheba lose her teeth?  Was it so traumatic that Sheba had to get the fuck out and risk life and limb just to be free of the wild torture Marco & Richard were doling out?  Where they feeding the cat acid in her water and now the cat rips it’s own teeth out in during a bad trip and heads for the streets?  Also, why does it “need” to get home?  Wouldn’t you say “she has no teeth and we are really worried about her?”  Does she need to get home so she can get beaten more?

In fairness, I am sure Marco and Richard are awesome and if you have any info on Sheba, please call them (even if that information is that she was eaten by bears, or worse, was hanging out with indie hipster cats that wait outside the back of 4100 hoping for a free drink).

Check out the new one I saw last night while heading to dinner in WeHo:

Let’s dive right in.  For geographical context on the off chance you are a PETA person and want to find this cat, this sign was posted around Flores and Santa Monica right in the heart of WeHo.

First off, the choice of all caps and yellow highlighting definitely got the point across that this shit was critical.  That or the fact that the first word is CRITICAL.  That’s why I decided to put down other activities like curing cancer and helping developmentally challenged children in pursuit of helping this cat find it’s owner again for a sweet, sweet homecoming.

They spell the word “neighbours” with a U, letting me know that this person is either Canadian or British, and so you may want to weigh that in when you decide if you plan to help.  Also, there is a good chance this cat, like it’s owner, may be an illegal alien of Canadian or British decent, so factor that in as well.

Then they go into where we are supposed to look.  It kind of reads like that Tommy Lee Jones speech in The Fugitive, only if Tommy Lee Jones had been shot in the head, had the use of half his brain, and was confusing a pee wee football team for his team of U.S. Marshalls.  Also, who in WeHo has a garage and how do we look under it?  Do we wait for an earthquake, assume the cat survived and search?  I’m confused.

This person also opted out of just leaving an email or phone number to call for contact, instead opting to direct any would be murderers with directions to their house (near Willougby if you were confused) and provide them with a really great line to get her to open the door like “hey, I have that cat you are freaking out about”.

No wonder the British lost the Revolutionary War.

In any event, I would have to say this cat doesn’t want to live with someone who writes a seven page missing poster.  If I found the cat, I’d be more inclined to take care of it myself.  But alas, as a public figure, I give you the citizens of Lost Angeles the choice of whether or not you want to help.  The choice is yours.

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One response to “This Cat is Toast.

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