Cat On My Back
It was a period of time consisting of mere minutes. One minute I was performing one of my duties which, don’t begrudge me my good fortune, consists of swimming around the pool testing various properties ( alkalinity and ph bromide reactivities to human skin, floatability, shallow end rope divider tensile strength, temperature, pine needle irritability, and other multi-syllabic obfuscations meant to put in shadow the fact that I am floating around the pool at midday) and the next minute I am kneeling on the rough ass pool deck, attending to the sometimes malfunctioning pool sweeper device with a 20 pound former Brooklynite feline, claws fully working, attached to my shirtless back. I screamed. And then Herman just sittin’ there lookin’ at me like, what. I have read Pet Semetary, probably saw the movie, and recently listened to it as a book on tape, so don’t tell me I don’t know about cats that have returned from the dead to bring moderate levels of discomfort to those around them.
My employer, Mr. BC, says he saw a large bone in the grass just alongside the driveway while he was jogging the other morning. He said it appeared to have been chewed on one end. Which is a thing all goblins learn on their first day of school. Retrieve bones from cemetery, bite off end, suck out marrow.
I forgot to mention there is a small family cemetery on the property. And one of the graves has a bit of a, uh, subsidence problem.
I could make a short, ridiculous, Halloween movie out here if I had a camera and a handful of kids who would do and say more or less exactly what I told them and would work for popsicles.
Mr. BC held my hand yesterday and we got that letter of verification for the right to dump trash in Rappahannock County. At the treasurers office I also got a green cap, and a Rappahannock decal for my windshield. I was so happy about that decal.
I paused leaving out of the dump, right by the office, like I has a rat snake in my boot or something, just in case the dump attendant wanted to admire my new decal. He didn’t.
Perhaps Herman would like a buddy. We're still interviewing applicants for the adoption of Rex, the dreadlocked cat.
Yeah, I was thinking about Rex. I don't know if I could pass an interview though. And he would probably have to travel to back to New Orleans with me. You might ask him how he feels about that. I have to tell you the truth, over the years some cats have not survived their time with me.
he's not very fond of hot weather, or traveling, though i bet he could get used to crawdaddies, so long you don't make 'em too spicy. i'm not sure he could hold his own with those dogs you shoot at, let along big head and his posse.
There's a local cat who's been mooching off of me lately. He's kind of skinny and seems semi-feral. I've been using food as a bribe to get him to come closer. Today I raised the stakes ... tuuuna fish, mmmmmm. He let me stand a few feet away, on the other side of a screen door. No name yet.
If within two days he's sitting on your couch, drinking your beers, and hacking up hairballs on your rugs, you could call him Hustler.
|
It was a period of time consisting of mere minutes. One minute I was performing one of my duties which, don’t begrudge me my good fortune, consists of swimming around the pool testing various properties ( alkalinity and ph bromide reactivities to human skin, floatability, shallow end rope divider tensile strength, temperature, pine needle irritability, and other multi-syllabic obfuscations meant to put in shadow the fact that I am floating around the pool at midday) and the next minute I am kneeling on the rough ass pool deck, attending to the sometimes malfunctioning pool sweeper device with a 20 pound former Brooklynite feline, claws fully working, attached to my shirtless back. I screamed. And then Herman just sittin’ there lookin’ at me like, what. I have read Pet Semetary, probably saw the movie, and recently listened to it as a book on tape, so don’t tell me I don’t know about cats that have returned from the dead to bring moderate levels of discomfort to those around them.
My employer, Mr. BC, says he saw a large bone in the grass just alongside the driveway while he was jogging the other morning. He said it appeared to have been chewed on one end. Which is a thing all goblins learn on their first day of school. Retrieve bones from cemetery, bite off end, suck out marrow.
I forgot to mention there is a small family cemetery on the property. And one of the graves has a bit of a, uh, subsidence problem.
I could make a short, ridiculous, Halloween movie out here if I had a camera and a handful of kids who would do and say more or less exactly what I told them and would work for popsicles.
Mr. BC held my hand yesterday and we got that letter of verification for the right to dump trash in Rappahannock County. At the treasurers office I also got a green cap, and a Rappahannock decal for my windshield. I was so happy about that decal.
I paused leaving out of the dump, right by the office, like I has a rat snake in my boot or something, just in case the dump attendant wanted to admire my new decal. He didn’t.
- jimlouis 8-21-2003 5:15 pm
Perhaps Herman would like a buddy. We're still interviewing applicants for the adoption of Rex, the dreadlocked cat.
- linda 8-21-2003 7:11 pm [add a comment]
Yeah, I was thinking about Rex. I don't know if I could pass an interview though. And he would probably have to travel to back to New Orleans with me. You might ask him how he feels about that. I have to tell you the truth, over the years some cats have not survived their time with me.
- jimlouis 8-21-2003 10:55 pm [add a comment]
he's not very fond of hot weather, or traveling, though i bet he could get used to crawdaddies, so long you don't make 'em too spicy. i'm not sure he could hold his own with those dogs you shoot at, let along big head and his posse.
- linda 8-21-2003 11:31 pm [add a comment]
There's a local cat who's been mooching off of me lately. He's kind of skinny and seems semi-feral. I've been using food as a bribe to get him to come closer. Today I raised the stakes ... tuuuna fish, mmmmmm. He let me stand a few feet away, on the other side of a screen door. No name yet.
- mark 8-22-2003 11:37 pm [add a comment]
If within two days he's sitting on your couch, drinking your beers, and hacking up hairballs on your rugs, you could call him Hustler.
- jimlouis 8-23-2003 12:06 am [add a comment]