Well, Blogger isn't letting me put up a visual aid at the moment, but fuck 'em. I can still tell a story, right?
Around about age ten, my family got our first cat, Tigger. He was a good cat. A bit of a loner, but we all loved him. One day we noticed him walking a little funny. It was if he was walking on his hind tippy-toes with his ass way up high. He seemed to be suffering some discomfort. It looked as if there was something sticking out of his butt, but we didn't really want to investigate further.
We told my mom, who took a closer look. It looked like the end of a string. Without any other bright ideas, my mom began to tug at the string. The cat was pissed, but he didn't run away. She continued, trying to do things "band-aid"-style, in one quick motion. The cat voiced his disapproval:
Translation: "Shit, lady! Knock that shit off! That fucking kills!"
About twelve inches of string came out, encrusted with fecal matter. It reminded me of when we used to try to make homemade rock candy on a string and little concretions would form. Turns out the cat had gotten into the garbage and swallowed one of those strings used to tie up a pot roast.