Columnist John Katsilometes: Cat scratch fever has a message

Monday, April 9, 2001 | 8:21 a.m.

John Katsilometes is the Sun features editor. His column appears Mondays. Reach him at kats@lasvegassun.com or 259-2327.

Bob Barker might convey the message better, but I'll say it, too: Spay or neuter your pets.

Why? Reasons stray far beyond simple animal overpopulation, my friend.

Consider the actions of a common domestic cat, which wrought havoc on friends who were in town for a wedding a couple of weekends ago. Unsuspecting houseguests were left shrieking and cowering. Hallway walls were specked with blood. Paramedics were called to the scene with gauze and gut in tow.

Most tragically, a butt was bitten.

If the cat had been spayed none of this would have happened. The grim details:

The animal in question is owned by friends who were married a few days ago. Her name is (cough) Miss Kitty. It's a name pet owners arrive at only after an exhaustive search for something clever (such as anything but Miss Kitty), and finally settle on Miss Kitty because they've already spent too much time worrying about a name for this stupid cat.

Miss Kitty had not been spayed. We all knew this, as did Miss Kitty, who spent several weeks doin' the nasty with various suitors throughout the neighborhood (the soundtrack to this cat's nightly adventures should have been "Shake Your Groove Thing"). To the surprise of no one, including anyone familiar with the odds of probability, Miss Kitty became pregnant.

On the week of her owners' wedding Miss Kitty gave birth to two kittens, whose names, if form holds, will be Miss Kitty II and Miss Kitty III. The day after Miss Kitty gave birth, wedding guests began to take over the house. Miss Kitty, suffering all sorts of psychological trauma stemming from new motherhood and a maddeningly curtailed social schedule, became, in veterinary terms, "weird."

Miss Kitty inevitably snapped. Two nights after the kittens were born was the bachelor party. All of the men would be at a green and grand Strip hotel. The groom's brother- and sister-in-law showed up at his house that night and took over the master bedroom, the closet of which was Miss Kitty's safe haven during the birthing process.

The brother-in-law had forgotten shaving cream (ironic given that nicks and cuts were in his imminent future) and made his way toward the bathroom. Soaring from closet like, well, a cat shot in the rear, was Miss Kitty. She made a 180-degree spin in midflight, fastened herself onto brother-in-law's backside and bit into the nearest mass of flesh.

Butt seriously ...

The sister-in-law -- a veterinary assistant, mind you -- attempted to intervene. She led her husband, stunned and wounded, downstairs and started back up the stairwell. The Blue Eagle again vaulted, latching onto the sister-in-law's right arm and digging in with everything sharp. Sister-in-law's palm and fingers were sliced open and blood spurted from her wrist. As paramedics were summoned, Miss Kitty slinked back to her kittens, and in minutes the neighborhood was awash in lights and sirens.

Meanwhile the groom, losing the family nest egg at a blackjack table, was informed of the events by a call on a cell phone. His face a mask of disbelief, he muttered only, "Miss Kitty attack ... Blood ... Paramedics," before heading home.

So please, have your pet spayed or neutered. Miss Kitty would concur.

If she ever comes out of the closet.