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for March 26, 2003

Cat's Entertainment
by Your Diva, Robin Pastorio-Newman

Larry is a small black cat bent on stealing your soul. If stealing your soul's going to require too much effort, he'll sit next to you at dinner and wait for you to drop tasty bites. He's a cat. That's his job.
Cats have other jobs too. Sunday, during a Six Feet Under episode that pronounced summary judgment against household vermin, we heard a commotion in the kitchen we didn't bother to investigate. Kitchen commotions are generally limited to Larry's daily struggle against invisible opponents, which Larry sometimes wins. Minutes later, Larry skulked into the living room with a nearly vanquished visible foe between his teeth. Your Darling, Your Diva, Your One True Love asked, "What's in his mouth?" of no one in particular because her companion is a dog kind of guy and the mouthful didn't resemble a stolen pot roast. Larry shifted his grip and the mouthful made a break for it. A field mouse ran for its life, but to Larry it was a really good plaything, and Larry pounced, suddenly the indoor predator that all gentle pets are.
In bits of seconds too small to measure, Larry regained his grip on his prey, Your Chrysanthemum covered her face and emitted noises only dogs hear, and her companion spirited the perforated prize away to the kitchen. One decisive THWACK! was heard. Larry searched the living room for his treasure and when he didn't find it, bitchslapped a catnip toy. Later, when shrieks of "EW! EW! EW!" quieted, Your Dahlia asked about the casualty.
Handsome Fella: I killed the mousie.
Moi: You wrapped it in plastic and hit it with something?
HF: I hit it with the floor.
It's time for spring cleaning. All winter, it's hard to concentrate on keeping the house clean when you're staying home and farting. Don't deny it. Have you heard this old joke?
Question: Do women poot?
Answer: No, they turn sixty and explode.
Think: how old is Grandma? Grandma's too busy scouring with bleach to explode, though one more go-round with Comet and a scrubby sponge may cause kitchen counter combustion. She's got the right idea, though, so march for the closets. Your closets are packed with stuff you don't wear anymore and stuff you shouldn't wear anymore, right? Let's get rid of it. It's simple. This is Altrok. You'll need cleaning music, and for jobs you've been avoiding, Your Cherry Blossom recommends the B-52's perky Wild Planet.
Your clothes are clean, because you lead a reasonably hygienic life. You know those shopping bags you save in a cabinet because you're supposed to recycle and you haven't figured out how? Grab a handful and pick a closet. Take shirts you hate off the hangers, fold them nicely and drop them in the bag. You're lightening your karmic load here, and you want to do it right. Take pants you haven't buttoned since the Reagan administration and fold them too, dropping them into the grocery bags. How about tshirts? For once, forget about selling your Suzy Quattro tshirt on Ebay. Once you start pondering the cosmic mysteries of shipping and handling, you're not taking another step toward a squeaky clean aura. Fold up the tshirts and drop them in the bags. Look! There's room in your bedroom, and a long row of bags by the front door. Where will they go?
You have options. Salvation Army, Goodwill, St. Vincent de Paul, Jewish Veterans, individual churches and synagogues, homeless shelters, programs for people re-entering the workforce, even theater groups and high school drama departments need clothing. Most of these organizations can give you receipts, if you need to document tax deductions. Or to establish an alibi. Whatever. Thing is: you feel pretty good. You've done something constructive for yourself, and helped someone you don't know. Maybe on your way home, you stop at the Humane Society and adopt a stray cat.

©2003 Robin Pastorio-Newman

All material ©2001-2014 Sean Carolan, except as noted.


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