I've gotta say that this thing of being the only cat in the joint gets a little tedious. I mean, it's nice having a litter box all to myself, not finding anyone else's whiskers floating in my water bowl, never having to compete for laptime with dabroots
, but WHAT'S THIS WITH NOT HAVING ANY OTHER CATS IN THE JOINT?
And then dabroots
is gone eight hours or so, five days a week. At least he's usually coming home for lunch. And today he left that electricity-sucking heater on in the bathroom all day! Should I have told him? Nah. As long he can keep affording to buy food and litter for me, I'm okay.
Speaking of people, what's with him being the only human being here? Really, it'd be nice to have at least some other mammal on the premises with me, like, all the time, okay?
I've discovered a bedroom item that I never knew existed: the box spring. dabroots
has always slept on futon mattresses. No box springs required. Here at his new place in Illinois, seems that he sleeps on this arcane double-piece thing that includes not only a mattress, but also this peculiar and redundant item called "a box spring." I mean, what's the point?
Seems that it's the same bed that he slept on when he was a kid. Except I've heard him telling that woman E on the phone (she's back in NYC with her cat, Frank) that this particular mattress/box spring arrangement was put onto his bed frame when his parents traded up to something fancier, 30-plus years ago. And then his father died. Go figure, right?
Anyway, last night while dabroots
(I love that new name, btw.) was lying in bed and reading Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep, I decided to explore the underbelly this box spring thingamabob. There was a tear in this netting on the bottom of it, so I couldn't resist seeing what was inside. Mistake!
Before I knew it, I was stuck inside this monstrosity, staring up at a complex network of ominious steel coils, staring right back at me. I moaned for dabroots
' attention. And I got it. He found me down there, all 10.9 pounds of me hanging helplessly in this hammock of deteriorating cotton fabric. Luckily, dabroots
thought quickly and ripped the tear in the fabric even further until, plop, I fell unceremoniously out onto the carpeted floor.
Thank God that dabroots
is still in my life!
During my first couple of nights here in Manhattan at dabroots
's new digs in the middle of this way-too-treeless island, I hid in a drawer under his new bed.
I could smell another cat's scent inside there, but no fucking way was I going to let myself get ripped apart by those two cranky old toms I saw when I first walked inside.
For nearly two days I barely ate, drank, pooped or peed--and I did so only when I dared to creep out at sometime around four a.m. on those two dreaded nights.
It was on the second night that the big orange one, Tikva, confronted me. He whapped my head through the back of the drawer and we got into a tussle like you wouldn't believe. I could feel my head banging up against the underside of the bed and Tikva's head banging up against it, too. We snarled, bit and hissed. But eventually we both gave up.
On the third day I rose.
Much to my surprise, Tikva and the black and white one named Frank seemed totally non-plussed by my presence.
What the fuck?
I walked into the kitchen where I knew there was some food and ate for at least ten minutes, filling my mouth with food that I didn't like all that much--wet mushy stuff from a can, and I'm a crunchy food kinda guy--and then drank water until I couldn't hold any more.
Lest I mess all over my new home, I checked out the litter box and stayed near it until my repast was digested. That's when I emptied my bowels and bladder with great, unmitigated pleasure.
A week later, it's not so bad. I've started sniffing Frank's and Tikva's asses and they've started sniffing mine.
Life in Manhattan ain't so bad, after all.
Yes, I know it's been a very long time since I last updated my journal.
Last time was just days after the 2004 elections. I thought about climbing into the litter box and never coming out.
And now--and for the past several months--I think I might be gay.
There's this young tomcat living in my current home here in Brooklyn.
His name is Jynx, and he has some hot Asian blood flowing in his veins.
Jynx and I spend lots of time together, lying around, licking each other, wrestling, etc.
I'm okay with it. Really.
Holy Pile of Crap!
And I'm making no references to the reelection of that SOB GWB. No sir.
Hey, what's happening to me is even worse.
For however long, seems that dabroots
(aka Dad) and I are holing up in an apartment where he apparently used to live with a woman who was once something called "his wife." The former wife is gone for right now, but her two cats are still here and they're making my life miserable.
Worse, by far, is this old bitty named Cora. She must be at least nine years old. Acts like she's the friggin' queen of the place. She won't let me come near the food, the water or even the f---ing litter box if she sees me around them. Last night, she had me cornered under the kitchen table, where I was trying to hide among several boxes that dabroots
has stashed under there. She's this big old black and white thing with a wide face.
And then there's this young tom. I think he must be part Asian or something. With this narrow little face and sinewy body. He's tolerating me. Named Jinx. Must realize that I'm a mature tom--nearly four years old--and worthy and deserving of his respect. All I can say, though, is that they'd better get his balls snipped really soon before he loses control and starts peeing all over creation.
I am currently praying that dabroots
gets that job he's interviewing for in New Jersey, next week, and will be able to take me out of this pit of torment before December 1. Sheesh.
|» Kitties for Kerry|
Kerry, The Noble Choice for Noble Cats|
|» dabrooklyn might sell me to mexico|
Jesus H. Christ. If dabroots doesn't get a job pretty soon, he's gonna try to sell me off to this village in Mexico to be a mercenary rat killer. Hey man, I've never even killed a rat but I know that I have the basic instinct. |
I need to start learning some Spanish before leaving Brooklyn and hopping the bus down to Atascaderos . Back in his old neighborhood down toward Sunset Park, there were Mexicans a-plenty who could have taught me. Around here in this white-on-white neighborhood full of media conglomerate slaves, I'd be lucky to pick up enough Espanol to order a margarita, or even how to pronounce it.
Here's a story about what dabroots might be doing to me:
Mexican state recruits cats to fight rats
By Olga Rodriguez
Sept. 28, 2004 | Moneterrey, Mexico -- Rats of Atascaderos note: The tough city cats of Chihuahua are coming -- and they are hungry. Chihuahua state officials say they hope to collect an army of 700 felines for a frontal attack on Atascaderos, an isolated farm village in the rugged Tarahumara mountains, a region where officials estimate the rat population at half a million.
The cats are being collected in Chihuahua city, capital of the northern Mexican state of the same name, where they will be vaccinated and checked for rabies and then shipped by truck to Atascaderos, about 300 miles to the south, said Roberto Gallegos, a health official who is overseeing the recruitment of the cats.
"So far we don't have any cats, but an animal control agency already promised to donate 50," Gallegos said. "Our goal is to stop the rats from reproducing and that's how we hope the cats can help."
Ads asking for cat donations started circulating in Chihuahua newspapers Monday and officials hope some 200 will be ready to travel to Atascaderos this weekend.
Villagers in Atascaderos, a town of 3,000 people, started noticing the rodent problem a year ago when rats appeared in barns and warehouses where they stored their produce.
Farmers started setting traps and poison, but the effort backfired: cats and other animals that prey on rats started dying instead.
"Now they have no cats left and the rats just keep reproducing," Gallegos said.
Eustaquio Marin, a spokesman for the municipality of Guadalupe y Calvo, where Atascaderos is located, said about 800 households are infested with the rats. He said there was an average of 200 rats per home.
With the rats able to produce 800 offspring per year, authorities fear they could soon start spreading to neighboring villages.
"It's like the problem in "The Pied Piper of Hamelin" tale, but unfortunately that flutist doesn't exist and what we have here is an imminent health problem," Gallegos said.
The plan alarmed Emilia de Leon of the Animal Protection Society in Monterrey, the largest urban area in northern Mexico.
"Are they going to bring the cats to die of hunger?" she asked, and said it would be "a very big mistake" to use cats that had not been sterilized.
"Now there is going to be a plague of cats and what are they going to do -- start to exterminate cats?" she asked. From Salon.