3:24 a.m., and Dolly Gee Squeakers, formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers, escorts me to the bathroom.
She would escort you, too, given the chance.
Good ol’ Dolly. She has a calling, this one, and she takes it seriously.
Come with me, won’t you? Oh, sure, you say you don’t need the bathroom, but take it from the gal on the 48th floor – never pass up the opportunity to use the bathroom.
Particularly before getting on an elevator.
Another story entirely.
But here we are! 3:24 a.m. Comfy, ain’t it, me and you in the dark like this? Look over there. See the darkish lump? That’s Dolly Gee Squeakers.
“Mrrrrrow?” Dolly, having been abused mercilessly by the other kittens about her lisp, rarely speaks and goes utterly native in the dark. “Mrrrrow?”
She sits up but doesn’t bother to move, confident that we will step over her. This confidence is misplaced, however, as I have stepped on various bits of her more than once, whereupon she makes a sound akin to an accusatory siren.
“Don’t play coy with me,” I say.
She follows me into the bathroom.
She’s claimed it, you see. The bathroom is hers, as is the front stairway.
I close the door. Dolly flops over onto the bathroom rug.
“So,” I say. “Made your college picks yet?”
Dolly Gee Squeakers, formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers, has a weakness for three things: gambling, menthol cigarettes, and college basketball.
She’s also terribly fond of Patsy Cline and collects souvenir ashtrays.
Dolly sits up, cocks her head to one side, makes a sound between a coo and a question mark.
“Oh, that’s right,” I say. “Men’s college basketball tournaments are in March, aren’t they? This is only February.”
Dolly Gee lifts a paw, casually licks her elbow.
“Man, last year’s picks were a bust…” My voice trails off as I finish the sentence, realizing, in my drowsy state, that I’ve stumbled. Dolly’s usual method of picking winners – bigger mascots defeating smaller mascots – went out the window last year when the Iowa Jayhawks entered the picture.
As we like to say up here, Dolly do like the birdies.
When the Jayhawks lost, Dolly sorrowfully realized that she’d bet more money than she could afford to lose, causing her to stub out her cigarette and take to smoking them in three- and four- drag increments.
There’s an awkward silence as we both consider my gaffe.
“Sorry, Dolly. I know that was hard on you.”
She stares at me. She stares at the door.
I open it, and she sweeps out of the room.
Rats.
I am washing my hands when the door is pushed open. It is Dolly.
“I’m sorry, Dolly,” I say. “I was thoughtless.”
She flops on to her side, stretches, shows me her white belly. I bend over and scratch it.
“No problem,” she says, back arched, eyes closed. She chooses her words carefully, avoiding "s's" whenever possible. She sits up, trains her bright blue, slightly crossed eyes on me. “I learned a lethun that day.”
Now it is my turn to cock my head.
“Never bet more than you can loothe,” she purrs. “And never meth with a thytem.”
I smile, leave her as I head back to the bedroom.
You heard it from the cat first: Never mess with a system.
About Bob Dylan
5 days ago
37 comments:
Anyone that's a fan of Patsy Cline must have a lot of good in them. As does anyone who is your personal escort to the bathroom, even in the dark hours of the morning.
I always listen to the cats.
Pearl, you are so funny. You are one of my blog friends I really envy, because you write so brilliantly! And it's not a "bad" envy...it's a "good" envy! Have a great day! :)
Shelly, she's a good girl. :-)
Bossy, it's surprising how often the little buggers know the score...
Becky, as long as it's a good envy!! ha ha! (And thank you! That's very sweet!!)
Cats and I often stare at each other without moving.
Tell Dolly Gee I like Patsy too. She can come to the bathroom with me any day.
I wasn't nearly that kind this morning when my dog got me up an hour before I was scheduled to go outside. He didn't go! He just sat on the porch and looked at the moon, then turned around and came back inside and wanted a treat. He didn't get one; I went back to bed, grumpy.
I'm with Becky. And, if you do not mind, I am sending your blog via snail mail to my 97 year old Aunt in Alaska, who will laugh hysterically. She tells me similar tales of Blacky, her ancient cat.
She is nearly blind--my aunt AND Blacky, which makes life interesting--and has no computer. So she will enjoy this.
I'm so ignorant about cats. They've got elbows?
I rather like the idea of chewing the fat with a cat in the loo in the wee small hours.
Don't be too hard on yourself - middle of the night bathroom breaks are notoriouly prone to foot in mouth moments - especially when dealing with cats
I'm hoping Barbara doesn't read this and expect me to accompany her to the loo at 3 a.m. She might enjoy the company, but I'd have to leave my cozy spot in the bed. My job is to keep the bed warm, not go lolling about in the bathroom.
Daisy
Bama, I am really enjoying that visual...
Delores, she's quite easy to be around and never judges. Importants qualities in a bathroom companion.
sage, :-) sounds like a cat!
Jeannette, oh, please do! I have a book, you know. :-) We could send her "I Was Raised to be A Lert"!
Pat, of course they have elbows! :-) It's why their sweaters fit so nicely.
Hmmm. No, I have no idea what that means.
And having a small, fuzzy animal accompany you to the bathroom in the middle of the night is not a bad thing...
Glen, every day, I learn. :-)
Daisy, that is delightful. :-) You keep the bed warm, and Barbara will be right back.
Bathrooms are strictly off-limits for all but humans in this house. It's bad enough tripping over them in the day when I'm (nominally) awake . . .
Mine waits outside the door, then bounds in to be sure the toilet was flushed and the taps turned off. He says nothing. I wonder.
Let me know what team Dolly bets on. I need a new kitchen floor, and need to get some big cash quick!
Thomas doesn't accompany to the loo but waits in the dark --as dark as he his--to scream at me for a snack as I exit. I think the scream is as much a demand that I detour to the kitchen and the Friskies can as it is to warn me away from once again crushing his tail and setting off a series of unfortunate events.
The tail stomping is probably why he won't share his system for picking winners in the basketball department.
So Dolly's system WAS working for her? Does she have one for picking lottery numbers too? And can she share that sometime, say, in a future post ? :)
My old cat used to sleep on my head and wake me up by restyling my hair... he was quite good at it, to be honest. Sadly, no good betting tips though.
Sx
Why Dolly should check with the Cheshire Cat before the March Madness begins....that cat is well acquainted with the Mad Hatter who knows all....Chessy ain't similing for nuthin'....
Good luck this year Dolly!
Hugs~
God I'm glad that Karma does't gamble or smoke. Well, I used to smoke until 1989, so it would be just too much temptation for me. And the gambling--Good grief! I already pay for her litter, food, toys and treats. I refuse to pay her gambling debts. ;)
I would say that love is in the air, but that makes only partial sense, as I know dogs, not cats, with my puppy perched under my left leg here on the couch, snoring away. There has been some snowflakes in the air lately, but just checking carefully without disturbing Cooper, nothing but sunshine at the moment, photons of love, blue skys.
Dolly sounds DELIGHTFUL, lisp, and all...!
There is nothing like a dear cat-pal to brighten your day--even at 3:24 A.M..
could she have her teeth fixed? the lisp might be off-putting for prospective wooers.
Fun post! (Have you noticed how cats seem to be a zillion times more verbal in the middle of the night?)
Cats do so like to accompany us to the bathroom, don't they? One of mine used to rub his declawed paws incessantly on the door if I closed it before he got in. I don't think I actually want to know why they follow us in there. Let's just call it one of life's mysteries.
I learned long ago that I cannot afford to lose any amount.
:-) purrfect
Nocturnal animals, cats included, aren't allowed in my bedroom/bathroom areas...I have enough trouble sleeping thru the night without the added injustice of accusatory, lisping felines calling me on my verbal slip-ups. Rosemary
A cat with a lisp and a gambling problem is one unique pet. Hang onto her.
Dolly and our Nemesis shares the same penchant for not only having silken coats of dark fur, but also standing their ground when we stumble around in the dark in the middle of the night. And they act all offended that we step on various parts and pieces of them as they skulk in the shadows.
Cats....
I'm still agog that you manage to do this every single day. Every single.
Lines like this:
“So,” I say. “Made your college picks yet?”
What is more hilarious than you?
oh come on ... anyone can write Funny every day, if she has a huge staff -- in the bathroom, on the bus, at the office, down the street ... really !!! ... give her a best friend to trade pants with and a frigid Minnesota winter ... and of course the comical words flow.
(... surely i jest ... really i'm wondering if you've had miniature funhouse mirrors installed in your brain. )
Can anyone do a toilet run (particularly in the wee small hours) without a cat? If so, I am sorry for them. Jewel is very good at keeping the behind the cistern beasties at bay.
"Never bet more than you can afford to lose".
That's very good advice which I heard early in life from my mum. I wish my first hubby had learned it too. The man did like a bet or three. (thousand)
Better, never meth with any thythtem that involves thportth and betting.
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