The week before last, I boarded my cat Oliver at the vet while I went out of town for several days. In the more-or-less three years I have had him, I had never boarded him, and although I knew they would take good care of him at the vet I was concerned that he would be unhappy there. While he was there, they gave him an examination and some tests. I even had to leave him there for an extra couple of days so they could complete these and get results. “Poor kitty boy,” I thought to myself. “He must really be wondering what happened to his mommy!” Also, I missed him and wanted him home.
Last Sunday, I finally went to the vet to pick him up. While I was waiting for them to bring him out, the receptionist raved about him. “He’s the sweetest cat!” she exclaimed. She then told me how he spent his time turning on his feline charm to just about everybody in the place and reveling in the attention he was getting. He even let the receptionist rub his belly. (If I try to rub his belly, he swats at me!) I can’t help wondering what he was thinking. It must have been something like: “Well, if I’ve been abandoned here, I might as well make the best of it. Maybe if I really slather on the cuteness one of these nice people will let me out of this freakin’ cage, take me home and give me some decent food.”
In his defense, though, I will say that he was very happy to see me when I picked him up, and he has been hanging on me like a magnet. I guess I’m his mommy after all.
Today I was in my local Walgreens. They always have a lot of food items on display in the front, near the checkout counters. Today I saw some boxes of something called “Pan de Muerto.” Even though I live in a largely Hispanic neighborhood, my Spanish is atrociously limited, but I figured this to mean something like “Bread of Death.” It turns out that this is a special bread which is used in Mexico to celebrate The Day of the Dead. I was not in the market for sweet bread today, but if I had been I think I would have passed up something called “Bread of Death.”
I know. What’s in a name, right? I should know better. But I still don’t want any of it.
Since it is the day before Halloween, there are loads of scary movies on cable TV. Of course, I found myself watching one of them, in between trips to the computer and the kitchen: Strait-Jacket, starring Joan Crawford. There is nothing like a good old B-movie about a psychotic ax murderer to get you in the Halloween spirit. As usual, I was too chicken to actually watch the really scary parts and turned my head away at the crucial moments, until I figured it was safe.
Horror movies aren’t my usual viewing fare of choice, except, maybe, for the really old Frankenstein and Dracula movies. That’s just because they are more funny than scary. It’s fun to laugh when Dr. Frankenstein announces, “It’s alive!” And Bela Lugosi was damned sexy. You almost want him to bite your neck, even if it means that you will end up being a vampire and having to bite other people’s necks, too – BLEAH!
That’s all for now. I’m sure I’ll think of other things.
My own fevered brain