Mitchy The Monster Cat

Mitchy The Cat was 16 pounds of regal, muscular feline; a huge and handsome fur person, mostly black with a white belly. He was very affectionate but had a nasty temper. And every now and then he would just get into a mood. I would be innocently walking by and Mitchy would just leap out and clamp himself around my ankle and sink his teeth and claws into me. These attacks were rare but painful and came without warning.

For some weird reason, Mitchy took a serious disliking to our drummer Wiz. Now you must realize that Wiz was, and is, a gentle soul who would never hurt anything except maybe drumsticks. And he loves cats! Who knows, maybe Mitchy didn't like the way Wiz played drums or it was the smell of tequila that set him off. But whatever the reason, blood would be drawn whenever Wiz was around.

One night our band was scheduled to play a gig up in Portland, Maine. We took two vans, one mine loaded with band mates, the other Wiz's which was full of drum shit and equipment. I was driving behind Wiz when bass player Scott and I noticed, with sheer horror, the hulking and obviously pissed off Mitchy pacing back and forth in the back window of Wiz's van. His tail was up and twitching in that "I'm about to rip somebody's fucking head off" way. Seems the little panther stole aboard as we were loading equipment. Wiz was going down hard unless we intervened right away!

Wiz would always enjoy hair metal at ear splitting levels in his van. As I recall, he had a jury-rigged stereo that featured a little 4" speaker from Radio Shack. It was truly painful to listen too. Consequently, Wiz didn't notice us beeping and flashing our lights because he was too absorbed in whatever AC/DC or Motley Crue song was blistering the paint on the inside of his van at the time.

I think what may have saved Wiz's life that night was the fact that Scott and I acted quickly and that Wiz needed to get gas before we left town. Once at the Mobile station, I was able to extract the offending feline before any harm befell Wiz.

Mitchy was with me for a good many years. This was just one of many stories I could tell you about him. He eventually ended up in the woods in Vermont with my friends Paul and Mary when I took off cross country looking for fame and fortune (I found neither, just a miserable girlfriend). He made fast friends with Paul and Mary's cat and we believe Mitchy met his end defending his little pal against a wolf or black bear. Actually more likely a large black bear since Mitchy would've killed a wolf.

Stay tuned, part 3 will be about my lovely little calico cat Gloria.