|
|
|
convenient break in the dreariness
Saturday, May 3 2003
Mavis, the new cat fostered from the SPCA, is not a normal feline. It's not just that her orifices all exude various forms of crust or that her back resembles the blade of a bread knife. Her behavior is also unusual. She likes to come into the laboratory while I'm working and sleep on the carpet in the place where the ceiling is only inches above the floor. The attitude she brings is one of world-weary sociability. She'd like to be petted, ideally in my lap, but if that can't be arranged it's not a big deal; she'll just lie on the floor and stare at me. She's the only cat I've ever known who is just as happy watching me in a mirror as looking at me directly. One time she came into the laboratory with a ball of socks in her mouth.
Mavis's most notable peculiarity is that she occasionally yowls in a loud, forlorn voice. She does this several times each night and also sometimes during the day, always when she is some distance from human companionship, though her motivation is difficult to discern. The yowling usually only goes on for a few seconds and then doesn't happen again for some time. Perhaps this behavior dates back to when she was being kept by an "animal rescuer" in a closet.
Our grass has been getting kind of long so tonight I borrowed the lawnmower belonging to our downhill neighbors and mowed the patch of grass directly uphill of the house. This was only the second time in my life that I ever mowed a lawn. (The first time was when I was preparing to move out of Kappa Mutha Fucka.) The lawnmower was a top-of-the-line push mower, and could even even pull itself along.
Tonight Gretchen went out to Woodstock to see a band, one of whose members had specifically solicited Mary Purdy's attendance. She was single enough and he was hot enough to justify Mary and all of her friends (including Katie and Gretchen) attending. The show, however, ended up being ridiculous. It opened with the "hot" singer doing an off-key performance of "Us And Them" by Pink Floyd, though he couldn't remember the lyrics and was forced to read them from the album cover of Dark Side of the Moon. Things went downhill from there, with him trying to out-Cure himself with his angsty misery, so the ladies beat a retreat at the earliest convenient break in the dreariness.
For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?030503 feedback
previous | next |
