Tag: Cats

Heckett and New Spider Plants

by Stephen J FrankenberryLeave a Comment on Heckett and New Spider Plants

So, and before you start if you’ve noticed, I begin quite a few things with a “So”, it’s not your concern as to why … that’s all you Jill and your virtual red markers, so miss you.

So, in a conversation with a dear friend of mine, a one who came about being dear unintentionally, a friend who came to be dear through memory of a long passed time and particular place held close but where then she was just there until she bubbled heavy metal attitude up somehow years later into a now where you send thoughts and talk stuff into the wee and even sometimes throw random banana’s and silly fluffy or not fluffy life pictures at each other.

I told her that my sister had gifted me some spider plants. Two of them. I asked if she could get my stretch of a name of the two as I knew she would, plus you name things. Plants, cars “BB”, some of the third bay nameless garage cats here, you name things, BW, Lumpy, Penny, the most appropriate “Ghost” underneath a truck and out in a blink with your mere presence, “Li’l O” out the back porch, everything with a name, a point of reference, a something for the hello to furry things and even the inanimate things that mean so much for such stupid reasons.

Erica and Sid. My new Spider plants.

She got it, even though it was a stretch to take a step from Arachnid to Erica and Sid, but she knew what I meant proving why dear is dear.

She also said I should hang them if could, ’cause the cats might get to nibbling, though that belies permanence. I don’t have hanging things or walls.

Hold on … pause … completely off topic … now that’s a breeze rolling up hills, this one included, to an open window that calls of breezes that fight with indoor fans in the best of ways … just to my left at this most perfect time of year … not a quite too hot that still allows breezes fan fights with a Bella cat in her cat seat and a me in my PC chair and the best place I’ve ever had for words and a nose … take a sec … a nose … breezes that smell of … everything …

Ok, back to things at hand.

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My ex mother-in-law, Mrs P, gave Danielle and I a plant/small tree from her and Mr P’s house for our first apartment. We had a perfect room in an old new third top floor place just inside a small balcony where it could get some light and a little bit of love. Mrs P gave it to us because it just kind of sat below a window in the dining room there at the house without much attention. I could almost imagine it sad, you could say it looked Charlie Brown.

That room where the balcony was was just so, it was just so, was so perfect and where my computer was in early computer days and also where there were two old Victorian looking tall back yellow leather pimpled chairs that for the life of me I can’t remember where they came from, they just were, they just existed, like they were only floating in space waiting until an apartment and newlyweds with cats appeared around them, and they were the most perfect Benny and Merlin spots (my first Christmas new place present to Danielle  … though really only to myself) to lay on dreaming cat dreams. One in each. I named that plant/tree Heckett and placed him between those yellow tall backed floating Victorian looking chairs not too far from the window and the balcony.

I was home alone a lot then as I was doing a morning radio gig and Danielle was doing a sort of 9 or 10 to 7 in a little cigar shop at Station Square in Pittsburgh.

Well, in that quiet I took to writing and smoke breaks and writing and smoke breaks and thoughts out onto the balcony and found myself talking to myself and to kittens and to Heckett … a lot. I guess that might have been my beginning of crazy cat lady guy days huh?

Anyway, I said to Mrs P one day on a visit for dinner and to hang out and go for a walk with Fish, the dog, I so loved that dog in my brief, he gave me nose kisses and trusted me and appreciated I think when I would place myself between him and sometimes too fast suburban cars, I said Heckett was the coolest of things. I never expected that I said.

Mrs P: You never expected what?

Me: The flowers

Mrs P: The flowers?

Me: Yeah, the flowers blooming off branches. Petals everywhere. Benny and Merlin were covered in ‘em this morning

Mrs P: (taken aback) Really?! He never bloomed anything here

Well ok then. Maybe there is something to words I thought, words out loud that you bounce off cats and plant/trees named Heckett when you’re alone but not feeling like you’re too talking to yourself crazy cause at least you’re not the only one in the room. I wrote a poem about it years later that I just can’t seem to find whenever I remember, like now (still can’t find it) whenever I go for a search, though that is probably for the best.

Time and altered memory surely make it much better than it was, and it was most probably crap. I’ll leave it be, though I still remember the title “Heckett Bloomed Flowers He Never Knew”.

Yeah, it was definitely more than just probably crap.

I don’t know what became of Heckett in the back and forth of eventual broken things and the just too much, just too much (I kept the cats by the way) but Erica and Ned? I’ve heard spider plants have their moments of being replenishers.

At least that’s what Beck says.

We’ll see.

I’ll have talk to them about it.

.

A Friday Night Lights Return

by Stephen J FrankenberryLeave a Comment on A Friday Night Lights Return

7 miles. 35 minutes and the last 2 of those 7 miles went relatively quickly. A newly remembered two years later stress filled start to a Friday Night Lights gig up the Albany with the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge being an even worse back upped construction bastard than usual to start the trip now. Fridays in my radio production job can be headache enough already without adding to it the need to leave two hours early to hit the road and try to get to whatever Albany area High School is this week’s game of choice. Newburgh-Beacon Bridge? You ain’t helpin’.

The great Pyramids were probably built in a more timely fashion than this long, tortured attempt to fix a few lanes of traffic going back and forth across a river.

(holding a clipboard)

“How’s it coming Lenny?”

“Couple of big blocks are stuck sitting in river transit Bill, and a couple of others have been lost “

“Lost?”

“Bob”

“Bob?! Freakin’ Bob! Why is he a captain of these transports again?”

“His Dad?”

“Oh right, nepotism, and can’t go questioning the ol’ Pharoah there now can we, well, not without losing our heads right? Does his almighty have any kind of timetable on this, when more blocks might arrive?”

“No, but the river will provide”

“No, Lenny, apparently not always. Monster sized rocks sink Lenny, especially if Bob is piloting though I am told by the priests to chin up, that we will be finished with this in waaaay better time than some Newburgh-Beacon Bridge fix at a distant place in a distant future.”

“What??”

“Don’t ask”

//////////////////////////////////////////

High School Football is back for the broadcast crew at Spectrum Sports and after that stressy 35 minutes 7 miles thing to start my trip I finally hit the Thruway. And, besides the bridge backup, there were also school busses flashing lights and brandishing stop signs, firetrucks giving pause as firetrucks will, bicyclists, lost semi’s, aliens with tractor beams grabbing at BB’s ass, slow oblivious pedestrians in crosswalks, like some sort of piling on comedy plus a line of traffic in front of me all suddenly needing to make left hand turns against even more traffic coming the other direction for some unknown reason at 3:30 in the afternoon.

“Hey ya’ll, Frankenberry’s hittin’ the road and he’s already stressed out for time … whatchya gonna do?”

“On it!! We’ll call friends!!”

Cue canned laughter.

Man, what a relief though, a relief like shot out a relief cannon at BB and I eventually finding our way out of the slow down.  

I’d actually forgotten how much I love that long wide right curve after the bridge and the Newburgh Thruway tolls to drive under the “North – Albany” sign on these Fridays, always gladly dismissing right then and there anything at work that I may have left behind and undone in my haste, anything I may have missed, the worry of possibly being yelled at a thing for Monday. Though it can make for a pretty long day when I finally do make it back home I have always enjoyed these Friday Night Lights nights, once I get past the early time scrunch stress, to get to a sideline’s excuse to tell the world to piss off for a little football while.

///////////////////////////////////////////

Now in past seasons my Football Fridays always finished with the immediate turn around after game’s end and the breakdown of equipment and the truck load up and the search then for the closest McDonald’s on the way to the Thruway for a large fry and a larger caffeinated sugar me up awake Coke. Work a day a little short at the station, hop in BB for what usually approaches a two hour ride (two and half frustrating hours this time around), work a game and turn right around looking for the Moon’s assist to my headlights on my two hour way back, even hoping for an unmet new friend’s own headlights to keep pace with me and have my back for a few miles till I reach the end day promise of the Poughkeepsie/New Paltz exit.

But I had my sister’s place this first game back night. Mind you, it’s always been there in Albany, I’ve just been too much of an idiot to think about it more often in the past. But Mom is there now, with Beck being her caretaker these days in her diminished and I do love seeing her and Beck and the nephews and the cats and a happy Razzy lump of dog. The thought of the offer of the comfiest of couches downstairs to cut the long day a little short for the moment? Most appealing now, especially as I’ve added a couple of years to the human wheels and breath since the last games.

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Burnt Hills, a seeming one legged football team on this night, kept shooting themselves in their only foot  which made for a lot of falling down and coming up short and Shaker’s sideline, just behind me and following my parabolic mic steps, gleefully reminded them of such with whoops and hollers at every unbalanced misstep as well as screams thrown past the back of my head of “Hold ’em D!!”, “Let’s get ‘em O!!” or “C’Mon’ teammate’s number!!!” but not a number of a guy who may be 42 but a 4 -2, not a 17 but a 1 -7 and the rest of the litany of earnest football sideline chatter and entreaties just with some volume, with some serious volume, especially from that one kid, an injured one, going up and down the sidelines run like some caged Lion who couldn’t join in with the rest of his Lion pals, or Blue Bison pals in this case, one who was surely going to experience some lack of voice issues on Saturday morning or, at the least, just wake up sounding as if he had picked up a 2 pack a day habit overnight after his game long clichéd though excitedly genuine shrieks behind me every step of my way. Apologies to you, my ears.

I was reminded after two years of the almost comical obviousness of sideline yelling banter from coaches and players alike. From “eye on the ball” as if maybe something shiny might distract from the very nature of what your game asks for, the in unison play call shouts as they happen of “run!” or “pass!” like those on the field hadn’t already figured that out for themselves and needed the assist, punts that seemed to call for everyone to yell “Ball!” as it was in flight. I mean, yeah, it’s theoretically possible that there may have been some dozing for a moment so thus the reminder of the ball off a punter’s foot being in the air a necessary thing but still. Or, on another punt play, a coach calling out what always precedes “Ball!!” on a punt play, “Watch the fake!!” but in this case with the opposing team’s punter backed up to only a few yards away from the back of his own endzone on a fourth and forever down by 3 touchdowns. Yes coach, “Watch the fake!!” here. These nights, it seems, can even involve a little rote football comedy.

///////////////////////////////////////////

This was Shaker’s night. They kicked off their season in grand fashion with some full blown highlight reel type stuff, passes to open sure hands down the right or perfectly blocked runs up the middle that breathlessly ran, and ran, and ran to the raucous din of the big bannered Blue Bison student section doing what they do supporting them with some coordinated noise or just noisy noise and joy.

I was so glad to be back at this (and to arrive to the free pizza for pre-game dinner and post-game leftovers for the weekend or, if they were big ass pizzas, as they sometimes are, leftover slices frozen in zip locks for lunches during the week).

///////////////////////////////////////////

Hi Ma. No, don’t get up (comfy bed, quick kisses), just getting back from the game and crashing downstairs tonight. Murder mystery I see? That has always been your thing Ma. I like them too I said before a good night kiss on the cheek. Though she won’t remember me saying Hi or that kiss on the cheek she was indeed comfy, which was so nice to see and all that matters. Then it was a sit down with my Sis and a Matty (nephew) and a soon Jake (other nephew) to regale us with tales of how much he just adores his restaurant’s customers plus a kitten and a dog and half a sandwich and a two halves of a beer before making my way to that downstairs couch that nephew Matt had set up for me with fresh sheets and pillow cases and folded blankets down at the feet end just in case. I’ll have to let him know of little chocolates.

///////////////////////////////////////////

Sitting in Beck’s driveway the next morning after finally taking advantage of this family Albany way station instead of just turning around, with Sisters and Ma’s and Nephews and fur and a fresh made couch, all of my weekend shit and change of clothes in a tote from some place that paid a dollar or two to have their name on a tote, a dental office, one that I’ve never been to, I asked my phone Google lady for directions to get me home.

Eventually, along the way, I realized that it wasn’t the way home I had intended, the Thruway that is mere miles from Beck’s place was apparently not on the top of Google lady’s GPS list of directions but instead she took me, after some time, to the Taconic State Parkway but not before guiding me on an open windowed beautiful picture drive of a day past perfectly sunlit farm stands and pick your owns and corn fields and cows and horses and other farm assorteds, places that were almost idyllic, places that when you pass them you take note of in glances of a that would be kind of nice huh? It was the most unexpected and enjoyable of rides. I think I know the way to go back now, after these family way station stops, at least until the weather turns, as I could be Ok with more of this.

I mean, there are more drives to come and football to be played with sidelines to be walked and more free pizza to be ate or frozen then ate over the next couple of months to give me continued enjoyable reason to tell the world to piss off for a little football while.

Right Prince Arthur?

Miss Sephira?

Well ya didn’t think I’d finish a post up without some obligatory Sister Beck cat pics after I’d told you of them did ya? Silly reader.

(pics of Razzy and Rikki Cat #3 next time around)

New Cat Scratcher … Sir?

by Stephen J Frankenberry1 Comment on New Cat Scratcher … Sir?

On my way home tonight I stopped into PetSmart to see if I could find a cat scratcher that wasn’t ridiculously expensive, something I wasn’t all that confident in accomplishing. Though I have managed to trim them on occasion, it’s not the easiest of endeavors to convince Bella to let me clip her nails and they are getting a little long again as she’s clicking on the hardwood now like she’s taken up tap dancing and rehearsing a new number so I thought a new scratcher would at least help her with some nail maintenance.

I know she wants another one, a stand-up model (I do have a nice large well used wood framed one with cat scratch cardboard inside that sits flat on the floor but it’s not quite the same) as she keeps trying to also use this old one and well, a couple of short naked two by fours nailed together with a carpet top don’t really do the trick. It’s also Bella’s way I think, with the repeated attempts, to say “yo, knucklehead, human, can ya see what I’m tryin’ to do here on a couple of short naked two by fours nailed together with a carpet top?! Are ya catchin’ my fruitless cat scratchin’ drift … numbnuts?!”

She’s right, as you can see it doesn’t really have any cat scratchedyness to it anymore as almost all the rope is gone or fallen to the bottom like scratchy rope one legged shorts around its ankle. I only keep it for a couple of reasons. First is a sentimental one. It’s one of my earliest and favorite pictures of Shoes from when he was kitten, one of my bestest of pals who passed away 6 six years ago now, clutching onto it in its newer days to give me a stare and a sniff while we were getting to know each other and second, I keep it on the floor at the end of the bed as it’s kind of become a pretty good lean to assist for old man stand ups. You see I stand UP from my bed as I don’t have a bedframe, just my box spring and mattress on the floor (I don’t like bed frames … got’s to be proactive on possible spots for monsters underneath right?) so the assist can be welcome, but not always necessary, I’m not quite there yet in my oldness thank you, though still welcome on occasion, breathy light grunty exhales sometimes included.

Anyway, as I was looking wide raised eyebrow eyed at price tags of cat seats and cat condo’s that can also serve as scratchers on the big shelves or a few smaller ones in an aisle across from them on the regular shelves a pretty young woman passed to step into the next aisle for canned cat food, the aisle that has the Wellness Brand by the way, which is pretty good stuff and correspondingly expensive.

I found two possible scratchers but held the thought for the moment, debating 30 bucks versus 40, as the pretty young woman buying some canned food suddenly reminded me that I should do the same, even though this wasn’t my initial intent tonight, before that reminder fell out of the front of my head only to silently slide out the back. PetSmart has a few things the girls like that the grocery store doesn’t carry so I then passed her, reminder still holding noggin front, on my way a couple of aisles up to where another less expensive brand is located but, knowing that she was stocking up on the Wellness, I almost felt guilty and a bad cat dad for going with the cheaper stuff. I was even worried she’d notice disapprovingly.  

After I grabbed a few cans of what, like I said, I can’t find at the grocery store (a slightly more top shelf version of this one at least to ease my new found bad cat dad guilt) I made my way back to the scratchers aisle to make a decision on that 30 versus 40 bucks but accidentally came up one aisle short (because of course I did) and stepped right into the one that the pretty young woman was standing at the end of, still, though unknowingly, shaming me as she loaded a cardboard flat with the Wellness food, and I almost bumped into her.

“Whoa, shit, sorry, wrong aisle, my bad”

“No problem” she said

Now then it occurred to me that this all could have looked as if I had done it intentionally. See a pretty young woman pass me when, suddenly, it seems I need to walk past HER and then come back again only to “accidentally” step into her aisle and almost bump into her?

Future reference. I never do anything like that intentionally, I REALLY only ever do things like that accidentally, usually too lost in my own thoughts to sidetrack them unnecessarily for that kinda stuff. Plus that whole possible thought’s attention silently sliding out the back of my head thing I mentioned earlier. In general, if I happen to note, wherever I may be, that there’s some younger woman there who, like in this case, is attractive I also then, almost immediately, note the operative word in this sentence, “younger” and that I’m most probably old enough to be her dad, a dad who would probably kick my ass at any of this whole notion of noting things. So, quick admiration and acknowledgement of pretty and I’m done with the thought. Then it’s just to possibly some accidental awkwardness.  

She ended up at the checkout line in front of me and as she was getting ready to leave, bag in hand full of her good cat mom Wellness Brand food and as I was slowly putting my cat scratcher down for the cashier while holding back ever so slightly on the lesser stuff being seen she looked at me and said.

“Have a good night Sir”

“You as well” I replied

Damn … and yeah … she called me “Sir” to which I had three thoughts.

1. Sigh.

2. If she did for some reason think I was actually trying to “check her out” or even hit on her and that I was a bit too old for the attempt and should know better the “Sir” was very subtly and very well played, very well played indeed. Bravo lady!

3. Sigh.

I think I might just be leaning a little more heavily on that old Shoes cat scratcher at the end of the bed for the stand ups this evening while pausing the TV or in the middle of the night when I have to pee a million times it seems, sometimes even when I don’t have to but just think that I do.

Me 2: “Well is that right now … is that what you’re thinking … Sir?”

Me 1: “Shut up Me 2 … fucker.”

To Pee Or Not To … I Didn’t Pee (a Cujo the Cat song)

by Stephen J Frankenberry5 Comments on To Pee Or Not To … I Didn’t Pee (a Cujo the Cat song)

(to Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me”)

So here at House Wiltse (my latest nom of this place – I’ve penned quite a few of them over the last 3+ years always imagining whichever one on a shingle hanging above the front porch) there are a couple or a few or a number of cats. That’s downstairs by the way. You are already well aware, I’m sure, of my upstairs couple or a few or a number of or a three now or a four twice or a five once or even the momentary more when I’ve made the mistake of leaving my door open while doing a load of clothes. But, like I said, there are a couple or a few or a number of cats downstairs and with that any number comes the occasional issue.

“Hey! Off the counter!”

“Hey! Don’t be swattin’!”

“Hey! I’m wearing a black sweatshirt and don’t have one those sticky rolly things!”

You just learn to roll with them and wear lighter colors.

This is small stuff though, small cat stuff you just navigate knowing that that it is part of the deal. But sometimes the “occasional issue” is one that is more than just a butt push to the floor or an admonishment to be nice or a back off from the sweatshirt you hairy hair hairy. Sometimes it’s an actual issue, like peeing where peeing shouldn’t happen. That’s what litter and its boxes are for right? Not necessarily it seems.

Celie (my landlady for those that don’t know or land-bestie as my friend Jonna likes to put it) texted me just a week or so ago that she had a song idea for me (you may have noticed I’ve been wont to a parody song or two) after one of the couple of or a few of or a number of cats downstairs decided to eschew the litter box and just go free rein, free pee rein.

Cujo.

Again.

She got the thought of the chorus of Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me” in her head just with a Cujo pee tint as he surely looked at her and cat said “what?”

I decided to go with that thought and some cat pee silly.

It Wasn’t Me, I Didn’t Pee

Yo, Handsome … Open up man

What do you want Cujo?

Mom just caught me

Seriously?

I don’t know how

Where?

In the shower, you know

Man

I don’t know what to do

Well, say it wasn’t you

—

Alright

—

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

—

How could you forget that Mom’s the one who owns this villa

She’s got sixth senses that snap up on her pilla

You keep this up she’s gonna be your killa

She knows it’s you even got ya on camera

Before you were dumb and strolled off into the shower

These humans got tech to catch you any hour

Yeah that’s video your ass up on stovetop

You gotta say it wasn’t you to save you from the next stop

—

But she caught me on the counter (It wasn’t me)
Saw me peein’ on the stovetop (I didn’t pee)
Even saw me in corners (It wasn’t me)
Yeah she caught me on camera (I didn’t pee)
Saw scratches on the floorboards (It wasn’t me)
Smelled the smell that made her nose curl (I didn’t pee)
Heard her screams when she discovered (It wasn’t me)
I couldn’t stay so I took off

—

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

—

Act like nothing happened, that it’s no big deal  

Walk your Cujo walk, denial in your cool

See if you can sing another cat’s fault song

Maybe Sunny with who you don’t get along  

You’re gonna be banished from house for real

You’ll be pushin’ daisies soon for just this deal

You’ll be out garage, house life won’t last

Get caught again and 9th life will pass  

—

But she caught me on the counter (It wasn’t me)
Saw me peein’ on the stovetop (I didn’t pee)
Even saw me in corners (It wasn’t me)
Yeah she caught me on camera (I didn’t pee)
Saw scratches on the floorboards (It wasn’t me)
Smelled the smell that made her nose curl (I didn’t pee)
I heard the screams when she discovered (It wasn’t me)
I couldn’t stay so I took off

—

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

—

Gonna blame some other

For the smell that I’ve caused

Gotta be some other cat who goes and pees against doors

I will tell her that maybe it’s because of the dogs

I’ll just make sure they don’t catch me

When they figure mad cause

—

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

—

Celie came in

She caught me red handed

It wasn’t me I do say

I didn’t pee I will say

Celie came in then

She caught me red handed

It wasn’t me

Meow

The Continuing Chronicles Of A Crazy Cat Lady Guy: 3 Computer Chairs

by Stephen J FrankenberryLeave a Comment on The Continuing Chronicles Of A Crazy Cat Lady Guy: 3 Computer Chairs

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Okay. I’m gonna stop ya right now, before you even start getting all high an mighty about how I should know my place, that I shouldn’t go shootin’ above my station, that I should just keep my head down and defer.  But I have THREE computer chairs now. Suck it.

Like the finest of the fine with doilies under every lamp, majestic chandeliers hanging over your head in grand vestibules when your entry has been announced with white gloves and tails, like momma being too particular and always thinking of the big day and it’s company I have an extra computer chair now, twice, three computer chairs being two more than yours. Alright, that’s a little much, there’s no correlation in sounding all privilege and 3 computer chairs by the way.  It’s just me being dramatic but still feeling a bit fancy. No, I have no idea how three computer chairs equates to fancy, it’s just the seeming and joking excess that’s kinda cool. 

You see Cricket the Blind is a pain in the ass. However much she may be good sleep company, the best of sleep company, grabbing that nook between two pillows with a paw on a shoulder and the comfiest of a night’s almost sleep when you need it the most she is an awful computer cat. Always squirmy and moving, never settled. Thus, a third chair.

Typing around her, a right hand click click with a left hand butt hold, or a left hand click click with a right hand butt hold, she always proves to be just no good at this Steve wants words with both hands thing.

Three computer chairs

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There was a sun room and a blind cat. A room and a cat I would make my way to, a destination, on a daily basis when I first moved in here after convincing Celie that I was an alright guy (yes Todd Snider, I gotchya) convincing her that there was nothing to be concerned with, with a me, when it came to this new soon to not be stranger venturing into her house, and through the kitchen with hello’s to all the kit gang, Hey Honey Bob Tail “Boo”, Hi Handsome, Sharky, Bunny, what’s up Chubs and a prairie dog stand up, Lola, Florida, Cujo, Trucker under the table on a chair, the always Bruce owning this place with his Billy Idol smirk’s seeming disdain, others I may be missing, yes, Bella Bird, you too and I got your new water and then into the sun room. Cricket was an extra hello that I found necessary. She still needs a pick up to behind my right ear daily as I always did when I would finally make my way to the back of the house and that sunroom.

Then came some new company in this sunroom spot and I worried of Cricket the Blind and the interaction with a blind cat and a newbie.

“I can bring her upstairs with me for right now” I said to Celie, trying to avoid the possibilities of a bad meet between the two.

That “for right now” has turned into 3 years and an always right now. She has found a singular human, has found that daily shoulder behind the right ear lift. But she is, as a I mentioned earlier, a pain in the ass. Everything that cats do, from water bowling, to meowing to litter boxing Cricket does annoyingly. The water in bowls is an argument she makes with it, splashingly and messily, her meowing is more a loud meowl sounding wail like she’s mourning a loss, the litter in its box is a fight she picks with it throwing it about around her like some well crafted scene from a martial arts movie with kicks and lunges and tosses or a bugs bunny-like digging a hole or tunnel, dirt/litter cartoonishly being thrown behind her.

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When I sit down to scribble key a few words it’s usually with a Memes on my desk on a bar towel, always looking not quite comfy and a part of the quirky, a Bella in a chair next to me (she always has to be) and a Cricket asleep in my former ass warm spot in front of a leaned wall pillow on the bed. But then Cricket will awake, “She is ALIVE!”, lightly stepping down to the floor and then to roomba around spots in this little place, head bump turn, meowl, head bump turn, meowl, head bump turn.

Eventually the head bump turn roomba meowling will put her at my feet and the need of a pick up … to my lap and being a bad computer cat. But I noted that when I find the need to get up, to pee, grab another beer, or to just get up to walk a bit around this place, surveying my comfort, she’ll be all good with a lay down on my chair. Another ass warm spot. That’s when I realized if only for another chair. One for cricket, one for Bella and one to sit in with a Memes cat in a lap after she wants off her bar towel as she’s the best at that cat lap sit, just on my left hip.  If I get a fourth chair you might wanna call someone for an intervention. 

But I think I’m good with three now. I know, it sounds crazy cat lady guy-like but it really is somewhat practical from my perspective and, again, almost kinda fancy but … well, it works and I can type with both hands. Right Memes?

Memes and a computer lap