I don’t think my gigantic landlord loves his stupid cat as much as I do.

This is embarrassing. For the first time in my life, I won’t have my rent for the upcoming month ready because of my neighbors’ cat, Spots. No, she didn’t claw to little pieces a wad of cash I had dipped in catnip juice. Neither did she hack and drain my checking account to replenish her Petsmart Plus credit card. Instead, she caught, slaughtered and ate a giant rat right in front of us. By us, I mean the couple I rent an in-law apartment from and yours truly.

There was a Spanish league soccer game playing and we stopped watching it momentarily to marvel at the brutality of nature’s age old rivalry. We were thoroughly enthralled as the mutant pest furiously rabbit-kicked the air in a final show of futile defiance. His will to live couldn’t overcome Spots’ unrelenting bite to his neck.

No one expected a house cat to pull off such a stunt especially when they were raised on bowls of cream and Temptations treats. The premise of it all got us giddy and doting over the nonchalant feline as she delicately licked her bloodstained lips and white paws.

Granted, I have a pretty good relationship with my landlord, Uzor Azabukwe. He’s this mammoth-sized creature from rural Nigeria, married to a city girl from the eastern affluent suburbs of Accra, Ghana. They are both respiratory technicians at Umass Medical. The irony of this, is that it’s virtually impossible to breathe easy around them. They’re quite the sparky duo indeed.

Later in the night, as the soccer match was drawing to a close, the newly famous gladiator cat started staggering and appeared droopy and delirious. She was still halfheartedly licking off bits and pieces of rat from various zones of her shiny black and white coat.

Uzor and his wife Clare didn’t seem in the least worried and I just assumed the palm wine they had been guzzling like marauding buccaneers was beginning to take effect. I instinctively grabbed her and rushed her to a 24 hr animal hospital in West Roxbury. It took all of 5 seconds for the young snippy vet on duty to tell me he’d seen this before. The rat now coursing through Spots’ bodily systems, was poisoned. He proceeded to give me two choices of either putting her down or..

“Let’s go with the or,” I interrupted, eyeing him suspiciously.

I have a particular soft spot for cats and it’s very tender. Sometimes I wish I was a pyramid-age Egyptian so I could worship them and whip anyone who didn’t pet them sufficiently.

And so it were that they pumped Spots’ stomach and gave her a sachet of treats and a mouse toy she never glanced twice at. It cost me $690.

I called Uzor and he sympathized deeply with my debacle offering to allow me an extra week to come up with the rent.

When I finally made it back, Clare was seated on the floor with her sister on the couch behind her expertly weaving and knotting her long jet black hair and staring blankly straight ahead at the TV. She’d be stuck in this stoic trance for hours at a time whenever some favorite Indian soap of hers was playing.

Presently, Uzor and Clare started conversing with each other about their cat’s earlier monumental accomplishment. This, like most of their other casual exchanges, gradually escalated into a full blown jawing:

UZOR: (beaming with pride and sounding rarely sentimental) It was her first kill. And she tore right into it — like Simba

CLARE: Simba never ate meat. Plus he wasn’t a girl. You’re so stupid

UZOR: Your mom’s stupid

CLARE: No, yours

UZOR: What the fuck did he eat then? Tell me. Did Disney buy him tiny animated gazelle snacks? (Chuckling derisively) Lol, lol, lol.

CLARE: No. If you must know, Pumbaa helped him dig for scrumptious, wiggly bugs and worms from fallen, rotting branches.

UZOR: I underestimated your level of depressing cluelessness. I could never raise my kids in the city. Who the fuck is Pumbaa and why do you think lions eat worms?

CLARE: (donning her superfan Lion King cloak) Pumbaa is a merry warthog and him and the meerkat, Timon are Simba’s buddies.

UZOR: Jesus Christ. Do you believe that shit? A real lion would eat Pumbaa alive..then force Timon to tell him where his family was so he could chow down on a fucking furry, chattering, buffet for dessert.

CLARE: (with a steady stream of tears flowing from her eyes.) Goddamit! You are such a purebred asshole! I’ll kill you! (She went on to grab a jar of hair gel and flung it wildly across the room. It hurtled dangerously on a collision course with Uzor’s taunting sneer. He ducked and it missed rather terribly, connecting with a wall clock and sending shards of glass and chunks of green globby goo everywhere.)

The altercation predictably ended just as quickly as it started. Clare was now smiling sweetly, admiring her sister’s handiwork in a handheld mirror. The sister hadn’t flinched the entire time.

ME: Well if you guys don’t mind. I’m going to call it a night.

CLARE: Take some fufu with you. It was made by a classless pig person but it’s very delicious all the same.

ME: (Not wanting to reignite the situation, I faltered.) I, uhh.. don’t know. I just had a heavy meal earlier and ..

UZOR: It’s true.. I make the most delicious fufu in all of the Greater Boston area. (he acknowledged beaming proudly and grinning ear to ear) I use turmeric powder instead of the garlic.

ME: Okay

UZOR: Sorry for the commotion yes? I see you next Sunday? Liverpool vs Arsenal!

ME: I..er..gotta work that weekend

UZOR: (Matter of factly.) So I see you next Sunday then. Liverpool-Arsenal. Good. You Kenyans are alright. I hate what MAGA people say about you.

ME: Thanks. You’re too kind.

UZOR: I know. My mother keeps telling me this. That it will one day be my downfall — my generosity.

CLARE: (helpfully) You fell off a long time ago.

UZOR: I’m glad it wasn’t Chinua Achebe that was President for 8 years no? Lol, lol, lol. If you know where I can get a steady supplier of authentic US birth certificates, I’ll reduce your rent by $48.78/ mo.

CLARE: Don’t pay him any mind Ken. He can’t help it. He was raised in the jungle and doesn’t know how to be civil.

UZOR: (letting the dig glance off his broad shoulders.) I love that Trump guy. Anyone with at least 3 oz of brain matter should.

CLARE: maybe I can take you down to one of his rallies sometime. I’ll wait in the parking lot.

UZOR: Ken will you come with me? It’s not healthy to live in a bubble like a retarded germaphobe.

ME: No. I’ll be..working whenever those rallies will be held. I saw the dates on CNN and cross checked my schedule. Sorry.

Clare handed me the fufu and fish stew in some tupperware and I made to leave

UZOR: (Dejectedly) Fine. I’ll watch him from home. Did you know Scarlet Johansson’s little fucking Alabamian poodle is a Trump supporter? Even he knows what’s good for this country. And he’s a dog. Here, lemme send you proof:

My phone chirped and vibrated in my pocket letting me know I had received a WhatsApp notification

UZOR: Did you get it?

ME: Yes. I’ll watch it later. Thanks for the fufu and have a good night.