A Cat Named George

Way back when my dad was in the service we use to go back home for the summer. He would visit all the family on both sides and usually spend about a week with each side. I loved going out to Grandpa and Granny's farm and seeing all of the farm animals and being in the great outdoors. We would go down to the pond and catch Bullfrogs and Bullheads. One of very favorite things to do was to climb up in the hay loft of the barn with all of my cousins and play tag. We would run around and jump from bail to bail as if we were Indiana Jones ourselves. We would play for hours. One time I was up there alone making a fort or something and moving bales around and I stumbled across a nest of kittens. I had never seen a kitten before let alone 7 or 8 of em'. So quite naturally I was fascinated with them. I started bringing them fresh milk and little scraps of meat to see if they would take to it. There was one that wanted to try everything and would always investigate no matter what I brought. So I of course had to name him George. After Curious George. Well the summer came and the summer went and the whole next year I thought about that stupid ole cat. The next summer came and when we got to Grandpa and Granny's farm I rushed right back to the hay loft and climbed the ladder just as quick as I could to see if ole George was still there. Not only was he not there there wasn't nothin' but nothin' up there. I couldn't comprehend why he or the hay wasn't up there. I talked to Grandpa and he told me that a lot of the farm cats sometimes would get runned over on the gravel road, or they would just disappear for no good reason. Just then as I was tearing up, a large orange cat started walking and figure eightin' in and out of my legs. I hear a "PRRRRRRRR". "No way! It's George!" It was George for sure I'd remember that stupid ole cat anywhere. Grandpa just smiled and walked towards the barn and asked me why I named that stupid ole cat George. I told him he reminded me of Curious George because he was always gettin' into trouble. He said "Yep, if I named those mangy ole cats that's what I'da named em' too." He told me remembered one time he decided to play with the electric fence and tried to bite the thing. He said that was the last time I ever saw him do that. There was another time he tried to go into the hen house, and how funny that was seeing a cat get chased by a hundred chickens. Anyways, my cousin showed up because he heard we were back and I was braggin' to him how George came right up to me when I got here to the farm. Right then and there as I am telling him about my reunion with George I notice he has a lump on his left under side of his lip and just then I see him spit a blackish stream of spit out about four and a half feet outwards... "Wow!" I exclaim "What the heck was that?" He, sits there for a second and says "Copenhagen". I look at him and say "Copenwhattin'". Jamie says "Copenhagen, it's chew". " Yeah, I know, but your only 12". He said "Yep, you want some?" I said "Yep". It took me awhile to decide to do it cause once he reached into the back right had side pocket of his jeans whipped it out, held it at a 45 degree angle, gave it three quick thumps and started to twist that fancy western styled lid off of the can, was completely physced out. Not to mention here comes Grandpa! "Jamie! Here comes Grandpa! Put it away!" I was sure we were both gonna get our asses whooped with a switch. "It's OK, you see this fancy lid? Grandpa gave this to me for my birthday last year". "Wha" I kinda of tried to say, cuz I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Anyways, he continues to open the can and just as I get a wiff of the sh**tty and very distinguishable Copenhagen smell, Grandpa flings open the door of the barn and says. "Thanks" and grabs huge dip of chew from Jamie's can and shoves it right into his mouth. I literally about gaged when he did that, and just as I am about to puke, he says "You want some?" As he is holding out a can that he had just whipped out of his can from his back pocket as quick as he was Billy The Kid or something. So now I have two cans of Copenhagen staring me right in the eye and I didn't want to be considered a pussy, so I grab a healthy pinch from both cans and shove it into my mouth as if I was the chewing champion of the world or something. Grandpa and my cousin were amazed and couldn't believe I was such a chewing stud. So with this big wad of sh** in my mouth I say to Jamie "Let's go find George!" Grandpa went about his chores as if nothin was wrong and I am turning every different color a kid age 12 can turn without dieing. But the way I was feeling at that very moment I would have rather been dead. Jamie says "So what's ya think" You like Copenhagen?" and he pats me on the back. I think I swallowed some spit along with a few pieces of the chew now. He quickly says, "You don't look so good, your not swallowing that sh** are ya?" and he spits a huge blackish stream of spit right across my face. It looked as if it was in slow motion. I think I could have counted the bubbles, and particles of Copenhagen in that stream." So with that said, I actually instead of spitting it out took another swallow. I turned green and he says, "You don't look so good cuz. You might want to spit that sh** out." Without missing a beat, I grab that wad of sh** and threw it in the sand. Of course George was right there to sample what I gave him and I never have seen a cat take such a big bite of anything but I didn't see any of the Copenhagen left when he went running off and went under the grain bin. My cousin thought that was pretty funny, and he said "Oh, now I get it. That's why you call him George. Curious George." Hes then says "Don't you know curiosity killed the cat?" Right then I puke a puke stream straight across his face and as he gets the wiff of my puke he pukes and of course beings how Grandpa had a weak stomach and was working and watching all of this go down near by, he starts dry heaving. So a few minutes later I see George come out from underneath the grain bin. He heads directly over to the sandy driveway and digs the quickest and deepest whole I have ever seen and lets loose with a great big burst of green diarrhea. Every time we saw that cat the rest of the day we seen him diggin' holes and sh***n'. The next day I went out to the barn with a fresh bowl of milk and climbed ever so slowly up the ladder to the hay loft so not to spill the milk. I didn't see George up there, and I never saw him again. I'll never forget that stupid ole' cat, and I'll never forget the smell of Copenhagen.