Rigo's Place

Stories about the trials and tribulations of Rigoletto.

My Photo

As you can see from my photograph I’m a cat, but not just any cat I’m Rigoletto the world’s greatest cat. I can’t tell my age, you wouldn’t believe it anyway. My very favorite food is olives, the jumbo kind with the little red worm stuffed inside just in case anyone should want to send me some. I live somewhere in the U.S.A., but I’m not allowed to say where. Dad be afraid the town get sued or we get thrown out.

Sunday, July 24, 2005

Hello, it’s Rigo here again.

My day began well enough, first it was a breakfast of dry cereal then I did my grooming so I’d look my very best. Mom let Peppy outside so at least I’d have a few hours rest. Baby and Callie were asleep so I decided to join Dad for the morning news on TV. The news is never good and this day was no exception, murder, robbery, war, and government officials wanting to take our homes and businesses so they can give them to someone else and collect bigger taxes. What a mess!

I determined I had enough bad news so I decided to take a little nap on Dad’s bed. I don’t know how long I slept but when I woke up I decided I needed a drink of water so it was off to the kitchen and my water bowl. I never made it to the kitchen, I could see IT from the living room and I stopped dead in my tracks. It was the death limo parked in the kitchen waiting to take one of us kids to the mean lady doctor. Which one would it be? Which one could expect a ride in the death limo to the mean lady doctor’s dull needle? Could it be me, surely not I was just there or so it seemed. Better go and check Mom’s calendar to see who was scheduled for the death ride. I jumped on the desk only to see (Rigo – 2:30) I almost fell over dead. Better to die at home than on the death ride or at the mean lady doctor’s office. What could I do to avoid the death limo?

I quickly put my brain into fast-forward what I needed a jet speed solution. Thoughts raced through my brain as I heard Mom’s voice calling me. She was almost upon me when like lightening I made a dash for safety but Mom was faster and grabbed my tail. I gave a scream to be heard all over town, then the fight was on the only way she could hold me was by my fur coat. Screaming I was carried fighting all the way to the death limo. Dad wouldn’t be of any help he had join the enemy and was holding the door open for Mom to stuff me into the limo, then bang the door was shut and tightly locked.

“Rigo, got me,” I heard Mom tell Dad she was wounded on the heel and I had punctured her thumb. At least I didn’t go down without a fight. But I was trapped, and panic-stricken; unfortunately I was so terrified I began to christen the limo. I was awash in a sea of you know what, I couldn’t help it I’d had a complete breakdown. Then suddenly Dad picked up the limo, I lost my balance and down I went into the Dead Sea. It was horrible, I was horrible, I began to scream but Mom and Dad paid no attention to me; but that would change when I hit the doctor’s office. When the doctor opened the limo door a very damp me stumbled out onto the examining table. “Rigo, what did you do,” shrieked my poor stunned mother. “He’ll need a bath,” said the mean lady doctor handing a large towel to her assistant. “You can’t bathe him cried Mom. “He won’t let anyone bathe him, not even the groomer. Mom was about to become totally unglued she was about to have her own breakdown.

The doctor’s assistant who wasn’t much bigger than me took the towel, wrapped me in it, and was about to carry me away when Mom told her she would come too. She wouldn’t leave me alone with a stranger this of course was as much for her protection as for mine. It was all the little lady could do to carry me to the bathing facilities struggling as I was. Mom was ringing her hands with fear at the thought of what I might do when I saw the shower. Mom made certain every door was tightly shut so I couldn’t escape. Where did she think I’d escape to, did she really think I’d jump the fence and try and race across four lanes of traffic only to become road kill. She must think I’ve no intelligence.

So I allowed the little lady to carry me to the shower that’s where I planned to put up my bravest fight. I knew from past experience I could be deadly in the shower just like at the groomer’s salon from which Callie and me have been banned. We terrified the groomer so much she begged Mom never to bring us back. The plan worked then and it would work now. Only this wasn’t anything like the groomer’s salon when the little lady opened the door there stood a kennel filled with DOG’S. My heart almost stopped at the sight of the beasts. I tried hard to escape, better to die in traffic than to be killed by a rotten, flea bitten dog. But Mom quickly slammed the door shut and I was trapped in a room filled with mangy, nasty, dogs. Perhaps if I were quiet they wouldn’t notice me as I was taken to the dreaded shower. I could feel their vicious eyes starring at me as I was carried past their kennels. Were the kennel doors locked? I noticed Mom looking intently at the kennels and I felt certain everything must be secure; my Mom would never let a vicious dog get to her precious Rigo. Finally we arrived at the bathing facilities and the little lady gently set me down in the bathtub. I was very quiet I knew I couldn’t go into my rage act with all those horrible dogs watching me. I knew I must be quiet and not call attention to myself and start the hounds howling. Still I could not help struggling somewhat when the water hit me, “Be nice, Rigo were almost done,” said the lady as she sprayed me one last time. I was towel dried and then carried back again past the pack of hairy hounds to the mean lady doctor’s office. I knew I’d have nightmares for years to come at the thought of being locked in a room filled with vicious, dangerous, terrorist dogs.

More terror was yet to come, enter the mean lady doctor with the dreaded blunt needles. Fast as the speed of light she rammed my behind not even giving me time to scream. Next came the electric shaver, at this procedure I did my best to take her down as I did the groomer. But she was no push over, she didn’t play fair, she grabbed me by the back of my neck and paralyzed me. She ran the razor over my tummy and down my back legs and all my fine fur fell on the table. Even Mom was astounded how quickly she did it without even getting one scratch. I tell you that doctor is one tough lady. As we left the doctors office Mom handed her a copy of my latest blog, which we both knew, would shortly be thrown in the trash. Why Mom even bothered I didn’t know, maybe she went insane.

Unfortunately after surviving my visit to the mean lady doctor’s office the very next week I had to return with a case of, how to say it nicely – diarrhea! The nightmare of the dogs had done me in and I found myself once again sitting in the Dead Sea. Yes, I christened the death limo and I knew I’d have to endure another walk past the hounds and more terrible nightmares. But to my surprise this time they escorted me to another shower where no dogs were present only people. Thank goodness, maybe the nightmares and the diarrhea would end.

Still, I had to face the shower with a bunch of strangers watching me. They sent two ladies this time to bathe me. I guess I scared the other one so badly she ran and hid. I noticed as I was being showered everyone was watching me very closely. “Is that him,” I heard someone say, “Yes, this is Rigoletto,” said one of the ladies bathing me. What was going on – “Oh, Rigoletto, we enjoyed your blog,” they raved. The mean lady doctor had posted my blog, not trashed it. Maybe she isn’t really so bad, but I’ll have to think about it some before I decide. So there I was standing in the shower looking like a drowned rat with everyone crowding around and making a fuss over me when another lady doctor walked in whom I’d never met, so what do they do but drag her over to meet me standing a soaked, matted mess in the shower. Now I ask you, how do you suppose they’d like it if they were standing in the shower and a bunch of strangers busted in wanting to meet them. Something tells me they wouldn’t be pleased at all.

Such is my life, standing drenched at the animal clinic to meet my adoring fans. I’ve always wanted to be famous and I should be Mom named me after the opera Rigoletto. I wonder if there’s a scene in the opera where the entire cast is paraded through while the tenor is singing in the shower. Maybe I’ll go to the Metropolitan Opera House in New York to see it someday. Somebody please send me a ticket.

God Bless,


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