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Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Part III: When I Think Baseball, I Rarely Think Cats

I’m confused.  “Where are you going now?”

I am sitting on the hamper while Liza Bean prepares for what appears to be a date.

She peers into the mirror, adjusts what appears to be a new collar, a black velvet affair with moonstones set in it, so that her tags (I’m Quite Busy.  You Haven’t Found Me.  Now Put Me Down.) dangle just so.  “The Twins game.”

I frown, then consciously choose not to frown.

Dang cat is giving me wrinkles.

“Is that a new collar?”


We stare at into the mirror at each other.

“And since when do you like baseball?” I say.

From the other room comes a querulous mrrrrow? and Dolly Gee Squeakers, formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers shoots into the room.  A cat with nothing but Daisy Duke shorts in her wardrobe, a cat known for her gambling debts, her souvenir ashtrays and her penchant for stealing my eyeliner, she jumps up onto the lid of the toilet and directs her bright blue and ever-so-slightly-crossed eyes at Liza Bean.

Dolly cocks her head to one side and stares pointedly.

Self-conscious of her lisp, Dolly can go days without speaking.

“No,” Liza Bean says firmly.  “I will not place a bet on your behalf.”

Dolly sighs, whereupon she jumps to the floor and then flops, without ceremony, at my feet.

“I can’t believe you’re seeing this cat again,” I say.

Louis B. Mewling, rake, charmer, registered Libertarian, is as good-looking – and as slippery – as a cat can come.  “Remember last time you saw him?”

The cat grimaces at me through the mirror.  “He was under a lot of stress.”

“He was under the table.”

Louis, drunk and caterwauling, had stood under our porch, howling obscene love songs until I had thrown a bucket of cold water at him.

We had not seen his large, orange head since.

Liza Bean smiles into the mirror, checks her teeth, moves her head from side to side as she studies first one profile and then the next.  Satisfied with what she sees, she grins at me from within the mirror.  “I can’t imagine what you’ve heard about him,” she says primly, a half-smile playing on her tiny, fuzzy face.  “Louis B. Mewling is a highly respected physical therapist with the Chicago White Sox.”

“What, like working with the injured?”

“Hydrotherapy, massage, those sorts of things.”

“What was in the boxes?”

“Gifts,” she says.  “For me.” 

I frown briefly.  “I thought cats didn’t like water.”

“Well,” she says, chuckling, “not when they can get gin.”

And with that, Liza Bean Bitey, of the Minneapolis Biteys, jumps from the sink to the floor.  “Don’t wait up.”

I follow her from the bathroom to the front door, where my car keys jingle merrily from a front paw.  “Call me after the game,” I say. 

Liza Bean turns – and is that a wink? – “Don’t wait up,” she says.


Shelly said...

I don't know what it says about me that a cat has a much more active social life than I.

Pearl said...

Shelly, :-) Dang cat.

joeh said...

I would not give that cat the keys while she still had the gin.

I'm just sayin.

Yamini MacLean said...

Hari Om
Velvet and moonstones? Louis got taste, then? What else came in the post?

So many questions... this is hot stuff! YAM xx

Eva Gallant said...

I hope not cat-astrophies occur as a result of her and the car keys and gin.

Pearl said...

She doesn't have the gin yet, but you know how cats are. :-)

Christian at Point Counter-Point Point Point said...

For once I would like to meet a cat that wasn't a Twins fan.

Joanne Noragon said...

What has Dolly every done to offend Liza so? It's not like she asked Liza to front the money.

jenny_o said...

Good luck to the White Soxers, because whenever my cat has tried to massage me it ends in shrieking and bandaids.

Hope your wrists are feeling better than before.

Starting Over, Accepting Changes - Maybe said...

Sounds like Liza Bean has a date with a real dog.

Geo. said...

A cat in Daisy Dukes? They'd need tail-holes. I'm thinking maybe leisure-suits for tomcats too. This is a goldmine, Pearl!

Lorna said...

Louis is not a good choice for Liza Bean Bitey.

mybabyjohn/Delores said...

I have a bad feeling about this. Be prepared to nurse a broken heart.

Daisy said...

I hope she catches a foul ball!! :D

Gigi said...

Oh Liza....this guy is no good.

But you just can't tell a cat anything, can you?

HermanTurnip said...

I'm curious what your auto insurance looks like. As with teenage drivers, does your insurance company rack up the rate when you have cats on your policy?

Leenie said...

A rake, charmer, AND a registered Libertarian? Can those three go together? Laughed out loud about cats not liking water when they can get gin. I may be easily amused but that was good.

Susan Flett Swiderski said...

Another great serial story...

(You sure have some imagination, kiddo!)

Elephant's Child said...

Moonstones and cats belong together. (When emeralds are in short supply).

Saimi said...

A Twins game....lucky dog....er cat!

Jo-Anne Meadows said...

That cat really knows how to have fun and get her own way

Indigo Roth said...

As virtually everyone in Star Wars said at some time or another - and will have numerous chances to come 2015 in the hands of Disney - "I have a bad feeling about this". True dat.