You are aware, yes, that I have cats?
There are two fuzzy little freeloaders: Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) and Dolly G. Squeakers (formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers).
Liza Bean came from my parents’ home. Situated not far from a freeway well outside of the Minneapolis area, they have a number of feral cats roaming about, mostly young cats, cats with yowling hormonal urges, knocked-up cats. Several times a year, my parents play host to anywhere from five to nine kittens and their mothers. My father has built a house for them, a little cat house with a hinged, shingled roof for easy access to the tiny, mewling buggers. There’s straw and hay in the winter, and it’s moved to a shady spot in the summer. I can recommend a stay at my parents Home for Wayward Kitties.
I got a call four years ago. My mother had, she said, the perfect cat for me.
I pointed out to her that I didn’t need a cat.
“You don’t need a cat, you need this cat,” she said. “You can visit her when you come up next week.”
Visit we did; and there she was – Miss Personality, a 12-week-old bundle of tiger-striped love. “Me! Me!” she said.
Once again, Mom was right. Dammit.
Liza Bean is a very attractive cat, one of those tail-held-high, mischievous, string-chasing, straw-fetching, lap-invading cats they show on TV. She’s a small cat, a tidy, short-haired and small-pawed cat who can’t weigh more than five or six pounds.
Liza Bean, how ever good-looking she may be, leads a secret life of which I am only gradually becoming aware.
What is she doing taking those late-night phone calls? What need has she of a wetsuit? What is her relationship with Anthony Bourdain and why does he send her money?
I am happy to report, however, that the days of her just haphazardly adding the words “heavy whipping cream” to the grocery list – without the offer to pay for it – seem to be at an end.
The cat’s got a job.
Tapping into her natural musical abilities, she’s formed a band.
You didn’t think Liza B. was going to get a day job, did you?
Despite the fact that she’s not had a drink since the birthday debacle that got us kicked out of the Origami (and depleted my flatscreen-TV savings), you may expect to find Liza Bean and The Band of Biteys at a bar near you.
They’re opening for Squeak Toy.
And all the cool cats will be there.
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