Practicing my clarinet has taken some of the time that I normally reserve for writing. The following was originally written in January. Hope you enjoy this re-worked re-post...
Every family has one, I suppose, a loved one who has claimed a certain part of the house for his own.
I, for instance, seem to have claimed the kitchen. If I’m not hunched and giggling over a laptop somewhere, that's where you’ll find me, up to my elbows in dirty dishes.
You’d think they’d make a machine for that sort of thing, wouldn’t you?
And then there’s my son, with the benefits of three-quarters of a college education, a second-shift job, and weekend drumming gigs, who is somehow never seen entering his bedroom but only emerging.
Squinty-eyed and blinking against the filtered light of the living room, I fear he’s become nocturnal.
And that brings us to Dolly “Gee” Squeakers – AKA Dali G, AKA Squeak Monger, AKA No, Kitty, No!. A badger-shaped long-haired Siamese cross of the mewing persuasion, Dolly Gee Squeakers, formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers, is a cat of simple pleasures.
Relentlessly teased as a kitten for her lisp, Dolly is an easy-going puss, an animal with few desires aside from the odd bit of dangled string and a need to accompany you to the bathroom.
Three a.m. Quick run to the bathroom, is that it? No need to go alone! Dolly insists that she join you. She mumbles queries whilst doing so, and I am nightly reminded of Columbo, the TV detective of my childhood, with his nonchalant, seemingly pointless questions. Whatcha doin’? Goin’ to the bathroom, huh? Why? Goin’ back to bed right after? Hey, what thay you and I thtay up, huh, talk about what’th goin’ on in yer life?
Once inside the bathroom, Dolly Gee throws herself at your feet, purring loudly, every fiber of her fuzzy little body radiating goodwill. It’s special, this bathroom time with you; and if you’re silly enough to turn the light on at that time of morning, you will see her vividly blue and ever-so-slightly crossed eyes looking up with all the love she can muster.
It never fails, this mid-night trip and its feline accompaniment. She escorts me to the bathroom, mutters various questions at me, then runs out only to throw herself on the living room floor, demanding one more “pet” before I go back to bed.
Dolly “Gee” Squeakers, Bathroom Kitteh.
We all have our purpose, don’t we?
And sometimes that purpose is bathroom attendee.
Sort It Out
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