Let us be like Dutch uncles. I do not fill my cat’s crappin’ box with sand. I buy the good stuff. I’m talking Arm & Hammer brand Stench Soaker Crystals for Multiple Sick Cats.
And yet, when come I home, I find that my cat either craps sixty times a day, or else invites her friends over. Or maybe she has a friend cougar. Something comes along, at any rate—perhaps some sort of cat litter fairy--and transforms the waves of smooth textured litter into a minefield of foul smelling clumps.
And it is the merits of these clumps that I wish to extol.
In olden days, see, I might have been forced to find some lesser projectile with which to assault the neighborhood dogs. Old apples or acorns, perhaps. But certainly not the Lovecraftian fecal matter, forged in the hell-bowel of the blackest cat, with which I am now provided. (She has a white patch on her tummy. We don’t discuss it.)
I swear on my mother’s Chihuahua’s grave, these clumps can kill a four pound dog. Maybe it’s their weight. Maybe it’s jagged shape. Most likely, it’s the solid tendrils of odor that actively seek mortal throats to strangle.
I used to have trouble with the local wildlife digging through my trash. No more. A clump in each barrel, and I find dead animals all over the driveway, every morning. And once a week, a garbage man crawls to my doorstep and manages a final, “Why?” before choking on his last breath and falling dead upon my bunny slippers.
Maybe I’m exaggerating.
But then, maybe I’m not. So keep your damn dog out of my yard.
There were six men of Hindustan,
to learning much inclined,
Who went to see an elephant,
though all of them were blind,
That each by observation
might satisfy his mind.
The first approached the elephant,
and happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side,
at once began to bawl,
"This mystery of an elephant
is very like a wall."
The second, feeling of the tusk,
cried, "Ho, what have we here,
So very round and smooth and sharp?
To me 'tis mighty clear,
This wonder of an elephant
is very like a spear."
The third approached the elephant,
and happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands,
thus boldly up and spake,
"I see," quoth he,
"the elephant is very like a snake."
The fourth reached out an eager hand,
and felt above the knee,
"What this most wondrous beast
is like is very plain" said he,
"'Tis clear enough the elephant
is very like a tree."
The fifth who chanced to touch the ear
said, "E'en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most;
deny the fact who can;
This marvel of an elephant
is very like a fan."
The sixth no sooner had begun
about the beast to grope,
Than seizing on the swinging tail
that fell within his scope;
"I see," said he, "the elephant
is very like a rope."
So six blind men of Hindustan
disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
exceeding stiff and strong;
Though each was partly in the right,
they all were in the wrong!
Anyway, yesterday was amazing. An ex-girlfriend of mine, Adele, went out with coffee for me. We sang together in the car--she's an opera singer and has an amazing voice--and then just sat in a café and talked. And talked. And talked. We spent a good four hours using up the building's O2 and engaging the occasional stranger in conversational acts of randomness. Bliss!
Then we hooked up again a bit later and had some Mexican food at an amazing little bistro down the street from my house. The Spanish language is beautiful, but no where near as enchanting as Adele's eyes.
If only time would trickle slow, like rain that melts the fallen snow...
I didn’t realize how much I missed this girl until I saw those eyes. They're wild and haunting, and they hide a chill sort of intellect.
"Here's looking at you, kid." Maybe I won't screw things up this time.
