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2003-06-14 - 8:30 p.m.

Because I enjoy drugging and trapping small animals and because my grandfather will not be returning to his apartment in the forseeable future, I was elected to remove his two semi-feral cats from his apartment.

So I spent my Saturday slipping Granddad's cats a mickey of phenobarbital in their fancy feast and waiting for them to get blotto enough to be shoved in the cat carriers.

I was told that one pill should do the trick but could give them two for insurance. Well, three pills and two and half hours later the psycho kitties were no closer to unconscious than I was.

So I tried rassling the suckers in. Picture this: I've got an oven mitt on one hand and towel in the other. I went for the big one first. He's the harder of the two to grab so I figured I'd better go after him first and hope the element of surprise would favor me,

He's hissing, spitting and swatting at me. He's declawed but he does have mighty sharp teeth. I make a grab, he unleashes a blood curdling sound and dives through my legs and under the bed.

During this, the little one took off and hid god only knows where. My grandpa's place is beyond cluttered, its a furniture graveyard.

Feral Felines: 1 EthelAlcohol: 0

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