Goodbye Joe, Me Gotta Go, Me Oh My Oh

Liza Bean Bitey – of the Minneapolis Biteys – a delightfully small-pawed cat with a penchant for umbrella-ed drinks; tiny dollops of cream presented on garage-sale china saucers; and BBC World News, is looking for a job.

And while the rest of the Midwest struggles to fill its job-interview dance cards, the cat’s resume seems to have piqued the interest of the Human Resources business community.

My phone’s been ringing off the hook.

“Good morning, this is Pearl.”

“May I speak with Pearl?”

“Speaking.”

“Ah, yes. You’ve been listed as a reference for a Miss Liza Bean Bitey –“

“ – of the Minneapolis Biteys,” I interject.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Proceed.”

“As I say,” she continues, her lips audibly pursing, “you’ve been listed as a reference for a Liza Bean Bitey. Can we talk about her qualifications for the position of Media Relations Specialist?”

Media Relations?

“Of course,” I say. I find it best to play along when faced with the ridiculous.

“One of the things we are looking for in a Media Relations Specialist is the ability to present reality in its best possible light. The position for which Liza Bean has applied would include on-camera work. In your experience, does Liza Bean have the ability to give the impression of truthfulness and/or sincerity?”

I reflect back on this morning. Liza Bean was sitting on the table, licking her whiskers thoughtfully, when I came into the kitchen for my lunch. Packed the night before in contemplation of the fog that often goes along with any day that starts at 5:30, I recall wondering, dimly, what she was doing up so early. I ran down the front steps, lunch bag bouncing against my yoga bag, the last thing I heard as I locked the front door was her voice, singing: “Son of a gun we’re gonna have big fun on the bayou…”

It wasn’t until I was on the bus that I realized the full implications of the song, and I knew what I would find before I opened the bag.

My jambalaya had been replaced with Meow Mix.

Liza Bean Bitey has always enjoyed my jambalaya.

“Liza Bean is the very face of sincerity,” I say, meaningfully. “She is a political animal, and you would be hard-pressed to find a cat who exudes more charm.”

“Very nice, very nice…” the woman at the other end of the line is writing this down.

The questions went on: Did Liza Bean Bitey have any compunction against bending the truth when required? Had she ever done any time in a federal penitentiary? Was I aware of any black marks on her record that would restrict her travel, outside of her inability, as noted on her resume, to work within Bratislava?

Coming out of my mouth, no words could be sweeter than those describing Liza Bean. Perfect for the Marketing and Public Relations world, to hear me tell it, no cat is more sincere, sharper, believable, or photogenic than the very cat applying for the job.

By the end of the interview, the woman on the other end and I were fast friends, and she thanked me for my time, enthusiastic about the chance to personally interview Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys).

That cat wants a job, she’s gonna get one.

That’ll teach her to steal my lunch.