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| I was going to write a review of Being John Malkovich,
which David and I saw on Sunday. I could also write a quick review of
Dogma, which I saw on Saturday night with Ian. I could even review
both of these men on how they treat me (an ex-girlfriend on both counts)
when we go see a movie together. I could do these things, and I might
even, later on. But I want to write a little bit about Gray Lady, my cat. Well, Mom's cat, but I'm pretty sure I'm the one who brought her home almost 20 years ago, back when she was a skinny thing that we called Gray Girl until she gave birth to a litter of kittens. She's the only cat who is still alive that was in the first "book" I ever wrote: "The Complete Cat Book", which I wrote at age 8 or 9 for a school project. She's an extremely pretty cat, with dark silver tabby fur and a white underbelly. Her eyes are lined with darker gray lines, which makes her look like she's wearing kohl eyeliner and batting her eyes at you. She was a hungry stray when I brought her home, but she immediately fell to the food and was called, affectionately, "Butterball" during her middle years (she used to sit IN the food tray and eat all day long). She's grown feeble in her old age. Mom put a stool by her bed so Gray can climb up to sleep with her (Mom's bed is THE place where all 8 cats like to sleep). She's sweet to the other momma cat (Portia) and doesn't take any shit from Mittens. Sure, she's cranky these days, but not without reason (unlike Jenny-any-dots, who would like to be an only cat and makes that very clear). Mom wrote me this morning that Gray wouldn't move from her bed to go eat. Gray Lady loves to eat, like I said, so this is a big warning sign. There's lots of other, little gross warnings Mom detected (which I'll spare you) and it bought Gray a trip to the vet. And it doesn't look good. No, I'm not crying, though I am sad. But she's had a long life, you know? She was the prettiest little girl when we got her, and she's lived a good 20 years since then with plenty of food and company. She hasn't been denied children, but she also didn't have to pump out litter after litter like most strays (I'll never forget one night, on one of the rare occasions my mom had been drinking at a party, when mom let Gray Lady out and called after her, "Have fun getting laid!" I giggled about that for months, as my mom didn't usually talk like that). She's been warm through the Indiana winters, and has had furry friends to cuddle up with and lots of human attention. And all the food she could eat, did I mention that? I saw her give birth to her litter, making it the only live birth I've ever witnessed. If I hadn't rescued her (and begged successfully for her to stay) 20 years ago, she would've been gone years ago. So, here's to a good life, Gray Lady! May the rest of it be as painless as possible. | ||
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