^5 Chris! Funny shit right there!
.22 gun salute works pretty good too. KIDDING! I wouldn't do that to someone's pet but cripes that stuff does stink, and remove paint, chrome, etc. Pain in the ass.
We had a problem thug cat here the year before last. Our male cat is fixed, he doesn't spray and doesn't roam. He's not a fighter either. Well, we noticed a very large orange tom coming around, mostly he would sit at the edge of the yard on the sidewalk and just stare at the house. About then we noticed the vandalism he was perpetrating, mostly on the wife's flower beds, and the associated pungent stench.
Whew!My wife had put a lot of money, time and work into her flower beds. Go price bulbs, they are not cheap. Thug boy tore up dozens of them early in the year as they were just emerging. Most died. He pretty much destroyed two beds and created a row of little shit pile litter box territory markers.
Game on.
Seems he took issue with our male cat being here and pretty much started camping out hereabouts every night, pulling all sorts of capers. One night our cat hopped up onto my wife's lap when she was watching T.V. She pet his head and found something there, on top of his head between his ears. She pulled out a claw, a big friggin' claw. The Momma Grizzly instinct kicked in and I swear her eyes were glowing when she turned to me and said (in that creepy possessed exorcism sort of voice, not her own) "kill that nasty thing"!
Did I mention the slight to "The Diva"? That was the car she had then, an '06 Pontiac GT G6. Part of the license plate was DVA so she was "The Diva". She loved that car. It was fast, scary fast and quick. NOBODY messed with her Diva.
Thug boy did.
He ****ed with the flowers.
He ****ed with her cat. (my cat actually, from before I met her but he's only mine when he does bad, otherwise he's her baby).
He ****ed with The Diva.
I had my marching orders from The Colonel. (I refer to her as "The Colonel" for various reasons -I'm shown "the full bird" fairly often)
Little muddy footprints all over it, every morning since the commencement of the nightly tomcat haunting. Piss on the aluminum rims too and the resultant delamination of the plating.
This little turdlicker had to go.
Problem was, we didn't live in the country anymore. We had moved here the year before from a very rural setting on a dirt road only a few miles away but now we were in a village. Neighbors generally don't like gunshots much, unless they are participating in the festivities. Hmmm.. What to do?
Ooh. Trap the little shit! I have a Have-A-Heart trap up in the rafters of the shop out back so I dug that out.
Done deal.
Gone.
Set it on the walk in front of the house with a can of tuna and went to bed. Got up at 4:00 for work and there he was, Mr. Badass in my trap.
My morning roll to work is 18 rural miles past several farms. Thug boy launched out of my trunk like a bottle rocket on a stretch of road between a 2500 cow dairy farm and a highbrow McMansion Cul-De-Sac subdivision, either way he went he had a future.
And we won the war.
