Uh, Oh!

It’s no secret that The Viking and I have had to apologize for Izzie many times over many years to many people within a three-block radius around our house. She’s…well…kind of a mobster but she commits her own crimes. I’m sure she’s tried to rope Teddy into being a hitman, but he’s just not that kind of cat, and I am eternally thankful for that because no one should be subjected to living with two Mobsters.

In case you’ve missed it, here is a partial list of her crimes over the past few years:

  • She broke into a guy’s house via a closed but unlocked basement window and refused to let him use his washing machine for 4 hours. When she was ready to leave, she went to his back door and shouted names at him until he opened it for her.
  • She bullied a neighbour’s dogs into neurosis.
  • She stole a customer’s truck and wouldn’t give it back. He had to come and get The Viking to remove her.
  • She car-jacked a car down the street, but the woman screamed so loud that a neighbour had to get me.
  • She kidnapped 2 newcomers to the block and refused to let them use their back door.
  • She started a fight club and came home bloody, over and over and over again.
  • She sits on top of a cabinet at the back door and slaps every customer as they walk in to pay their bill.
  • She supervised a guy, all afternoon, while he built a fence and then slapped him when he tried to give her a treat.
  • She started a fight with a Raven who came back with reinforcements and turned our yard into Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. I had to rescue her from under a spruce tree.
  • She taunted a Magpie, Alice Pooper, until Alice shouted insults and curses at her every time she left the house. It was deafening.

So, yeah. She’s a Mobster. The thing is, she’s a lovable Mobster. And it’s mostly men who become enchanted. They laugh about her antics, put food out for her in case she gets hungry during a crime spree, they chat with her when she stops by to judge them. She always came home, though, clear on who her family was.

But one of her conquests from down the street has crossed a line. He stopped by to brag to The Viking that Izzie has been visiting him and letting him pet her and takes treats out of his hand. Directly from his hand!! It’s one thing for her to just visit, it’s another thing entirely when she becomes a strumpet for any Tom, Dick or Harry’s affection! She has never let anyone touch her; she has a strict ‘no touchy!’ rule. Apparently though, this guy has been on a year-long campaign to win her approval and he’s succeeded!

I was unaware of the treachery until I heard The Viking’s indignation tossed at Izzie. “So! You would rather hang out with the guy down the alley?! You bite my toes at night if I move even a little bit, but you let that guy pet you?!”

Izzie busily started an extensive bath.

“You eat treats right out of his hand?!”

Still bathing.

“And, I had to hear it right from that bragging bastard?!”

The bathing moved to the lady bits.

Surprised, I had to ask, “Izzie’s cheating on you?”

Yes!!” He bellowed. “That guy stopped right out there in the alley, asking where Izzie was because he hadn’t seen her since yesterday when he Gave. Her. Treats!”

I looked at Izzie. “Really? You’re cheating on The Viking? After all the fancy collars he’s bought you? And the Dynamite sticks you love so much? That’s cold.”

Still bathing her lady bits.

“Well, I’m not feeding her supper tonight.” He said to me, then directed himself to Izzie. “You can go get your supper at your boyfriend’s house!”

Sadly, Izzie seems to be morally ambivalent about the situation. Teddy, on the other hand, has taken advantage of the demographic shift. The Viking is spoiling him outrageously, especially in front of Izzie. She looks at me like ‘What the Fuck?!

I just shrug at her. “That’s what happens when you betray a Viking. And they have very long memories, too”

One thing I do know – Teddy would never cheat on us. He’s a staunch defender of the home, totally loyal since we got him off the streets. He doesn’t bite The Viking’s toes in the middle of the night either, and hasn’t committed a single crime in all the years he’s lived here.

Because he’s a good boy.

I’m Too Lazy to be a Criminal

The Viking and I have computers sitting right beside each other – it’s a marriage-saving strategy so we don’t have to share. Everyone knows that there are limits to love and generosity when it comes to time on Facebook and YouTube.

In my downtime, I like to listen to documentaries on YouTube while I play Solitaire – it helps me to unwind – but because The Viking is sitting right next to me, he is forced to listen to whatever I’m listening to, and sometimes it’s a problem.

If I’m learning about the Hittites and their social hierarchies, The Viking usually just tunes it out. On the other hand, if I’m listening to expert opinions on western expansion, or the decline of the middle class, he becomes extremely interactive. Curses and shouts, to the point that I can’t hear the video over Viking political views. The cats usually rocket out the cat door to escape the heated and sometimes lengthy debate between The Viking and YouTube.

In order to protect YouTube’s feelings and the judgemental dagger stares from the cats, I’ve narrowed down the safe topic selection to……murder/crime.  Thankfully, YouTube has an extensive number of channels offering as much gore and dodgy motives as a person could hope for.

After months of videos, it occurred to me……

Me: I don’t think I can be a murderer. There is far too much work involved.

The Viking: If there was no work involved would you reconsider?

Me: Hmmm…..you know, there have been moments…..but, even if no work was involved, I would still have to be a good liar in case someone started asking questions and we both know that I am a lousy liar.

The Viking:

Me: What surprises me most is how willing these criminally minded people are to work so hard for so little personal gain. This guy, for instance – he just wanted some weed and whatever cash he could find lying around his girlfriend’s house. He ends up going to a great deal of effort to murder her, then clean up the blood, replace the carpet, dismember the body, dig holes in various remote locations to bury the body parts, and then manufacture a fake alibi. That’s a lot of work. AND, he had to do it all in like 6 hours. I can barely de-bone a chicken in 6 hours.

The Viking:

Me: Also, have you noticed that everyone involved in solving a crime is given the title of “Forensic”? Forensic Accountants, Forensic Shoe Print Analysists, Forensic Water Analysists, Forensic Internet Specialists, Forensic Reporters. My favorite is the Forensic Hypnotist who hypnotised a witness to get a partial license plate number. So, I suppose as long as you are talking about a crime, anyone can be a Forensic Something.

The Viking:

Me: How many times a day do you get annoyed because someone has treated their machine with criminal neglect? That makes you a Forensic Mechanic! Right? I’m going to put that on your business cards.

The Viking (snorting): What does that make you?

Me: A Forensic Chef. Forensic Laundress. Forensic Business Accountant. Forensic Shopper. And a Forensic Wife. I’m going to need bigger cards.

The Viking (almost eyeball rolling): Really?

Me: You’ve never heard me folding your laundry when every t-shirt is inside out. You’re just going to have to believe me when I say I’m entertaining criminal thoughts. And don’t get me started on family reunions in grocery store aisles.

The Viking: A Forensic Chef?

Me: Every time I ruin a meal. Every. Time. All that wasted time and food. That’s criminal all on its own.

The Viking had to give me a point for that because it’s absolutely true and we both know it.