|
From: Paula Hopper
Date: Sat 10 Oct 1998 - 00:30:33 IST
Let me just start off by saying that although I appreciate the
Bandito lifestyle, I can't say that I live it anymore. Yes, there was a
time in my life when sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll played a major part of
my Worldview. Due to time and lack of funds because of this lifestyle,
I must say that I have mellowed some. Don't get me wrong, sex and
rock 'n' roll are still part of my life, and I limit the drugs to
caffeine, prozac, and whiskey (age seems to have effected my
relationship with alcohol. I guess it's sort of like being a
Democrate. It's more fun wihen you're younger). The following tale
maybe be rather tame for those true-blue Banditos out there. All I can
say to you die-hard, balls-to-the-wall folks is party on, dudes, for
tomorrow you may die. The rest of us just have to go to work in the
morning.
Agnus and I tried entering the world of group therapy. She has
developed a habit that I find I can't tolerate. She is peeing on my
belongings. Now, granted, she hasn't pissed on anything of value, but I
just as soon she use the litterbox that I have so thoughtfully provided
for her. I tried to explain this to her. I told her that I have very
few posessions in this world and if she keeps peeing on the ones I do
have, I will have fewer. She stared right through me and yawned. The
final straw was when she annoited the only non-lawn chair in my
livingroom.
"That's it, cat! This has got to stop!" I yelled.
As luck would have it, there is a lady in town who holds counselling
sessions for cats and their owners. Her goal in life is to create
loving environments for both the pets and their owners. Of course she
is completely insane, but when you're desperate, you will try anything.
After a lengthy battle to get Agnus in the cat carrier, we arrived
for our first session. There were three other cats there with their
keepers. I decided to keep Agnus in the carrier until it was her turn.
She is a very unsociable animal and I didn't want to upset anyone before
it was necessary. Everyone nodded towards me with sympathetic
expressions as I sat down.
"Now, let's see," said Miss Rachel the cat counselor. "We were just
getting to Twinkie's problem."
A very prim little old lady cleared her throat and stroked an orange
tabby wearing a pink sweater. "I just don't understand my Twinkie-poo.
I can't keep her from clawing my couch to shreads. I just luv my
ugum-wumums to pieces-wieses, but she can't keep tearing up Mommy's
furniture," she said as she snuggled the cat to her face. Twinkie
simply looked mortified. I could feel Twinkie's pain. I would have
shreaded the old lady's face if she had dressed me up in a silly pink
sweater and talked to me that way.
"Well, maybe this is Twinkie's way of getting your attention, Mrs.
Perkins. We all have our own way of comunicating our emotions to one
another. Maybe you just need to listen to what Twinkie is trying to
tell you," Miss Rachel said in calm, understanding voice. I could tell
them what Twinkie was trying to say. She was saying "Get me out of this
fucking sweater and stop the silly baby-talk for god's sake! I'm not an
idiot. I AM AN ANIMAL!" But I didn't feel it was my place to mention
this to Miss Rachel or Mrs. Perkins. It was my first session, after
all.
Next came Felix and his owner Bruce. Bruce smoked Virginia Slims in
a cigarette holder which he waved fratically as he spoke about Felix's
problem.
"How can I keep him from licking his, ah, well, ah, down there?" he
asked in a voice that would have made Truman Capote blush.
"There are some behaviors that are innate to all cats," Miss Rachel
explained. " Felix is just keeping himself well groomed. I think maybe
you will need to allow Felix his space and make him feel comfortable
about himself."
What went through my mind was, "Felix has watched you go down on so
many dicks that he probably thinks it's the house rules." but I thought
it best to keep this to myself.
Kathy was next with her cat Angel. Kathy was decked out in a "I
heart Bingo" t-shirt and had WWJD shoe laces. (For those of you
fortunate enough not to know what WWJD means, let me explain. It means
What Would Jesus Do. I have yet to figure out if this is a reminder for
those wearing such items, or if this is their way of letting you know
that your behavior is not savior behavior.) Angel looked at me with a
devilish gaze. I understood Angel. This cat was capable of doing
anything. Which is exactly what Angel did. Just as Kathy began to tell
Miss Rachel about Angel's strange behavior, Angel lept straight for Miss
Rachel's face and let out a cry that could have come out the lucifer
himself. Miss Rachel toppled back in her chair with Angel stuck to her
face. Kathy tried to pull the cat off, but you could tell she was
scared to touch the beast. Mrs. Perkins and Bruce grabbed their pets
and cluthed them tightly to their bosomes. I took this as my chance to
get Agnus and me out of there. These people were nuts and I wanted no
truck with them.
After Agnus and I got home, I gave Agnus a good brushing which is her
most favorite thing in the world. I told her as she purred in ecstacy
that I would never subject her to such nonsense again. I can always buy
throw rugs and cushions, but I could never replace my dear friend. Let
her pee where she likes. I know I do.
| 
