Tall Tail Tales
I am not a cat person.
I am not a dog person.
This is known by anyone who has perused my piece from two years ago: “Man’s Best Friend On A String. Unconditional Love, Neutered”.
I’m not much of a pet-of-any-kind person.
Truth be told—I am not too fond of my own species.
And yet I have written five fictional short stories in which cats are the main characters.
There have been no pets in my adult life—besides some beautiful frogs a few decades ago.
Things took a change when I was smote by love and moved in with my partner Tammy nine years ago and she had two cats. Now there is only one—the other having gone to that Great Litterbox in the Sky. I had nothing to do with it. Talk to god about his mysterious ways.
We three share a small Manhattan apartment in relative peace and harmony.
I assist in feeding the cat quite regularly, but sift through the litterbox clumps only when my partner is in some way incapacitated.
I do jump in every so often to scoop up her glumps of vomit off the rug with a paper towel—ahh, feel the warmth! And just yesterday—I walk barefoot around the house—I indicated to my partner that I had stepped on something substantial. In the cat’s rush across the room after using the litterbox pussn’n’boots left a gift stool behind. Butt fur, y’know.
But everyone knows that cats are very clean creatures—so there she was licking her butt clean—with that ever so cute face that would later in the evening be nuzzling her owner.
For the record—I hiss at her more than she does at me. I’ve approximated that she is 79 human years. I am 69 human years.
This introduction will have to do. I need to get up and put some Ocean Whitefish and Tuna Feast (Classic Pate) into JJ’s bowl while Tammy takes a nap.
Past Lives Chasing A Mouse (10 March 2021)
Idyll Shrugged (1 March 2021)
Fear & Trembling & Sighs & Whispers (3 January 2021)
Hümdinger’s Cats (30 September 2020)
Back Yard Sunshine
(Number 18/31 of the Heliocentric Series, October 2018)