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11:30 p.m. - 2004-05-01
And the cat came back the very next day
Hurry, go here before it gets deleted!(Ooooh, too late!) sarafem thrust it upon me, heidiann and a few select other people. We're like cats in that in our hands, everything becomes a toy. a few of my favorites include: "Dear Jesus, thank you for building my hotrod. Amen.", "deer god, pleez dont let my johns notice that ive got teh syhpillis", "dear god, how long have you been online?", "My momma went to heaven and all i got was this lousy website" and "our father who art in heaven, if babies are so holy then why do they taste so bad?"

Speaking of cats, I've barely slept at all for the last two nights and am covered in bruises and scrapes, all because of one retarded little feline named Milo*, who was my father's cat until I took him in out of pity. Night before last was the cats' and my first night in our new appartment, after work I came home and it was hot in my room,so I opened the window. It being after 10pm it was dark out and I didnt notice there was no screen. 1am I am woken out of a half-sleep by the sudden realization that it was much too quiet in here, get up, discover the screenless window and go outside to call for the cat for a little while, and succeed only in pissing off one of my neighboors. Very early the next morning while im still trying to sleep my mom goes out looking for him and finds him in a little service tunnel hole thing that leads under the building.** Youde have to be some kind of crazy contortionist to get in there, but fortunately I like to delude myself that I am just such a person. She wakes me up to help try to coax him out of there but it doesnt work and I aquire the first few bruises of many to come by kneeling on the rocks to call to him. Periodically throught the rest of the day I will hear him crying, in that "I'm lost and scared and too stupid to find my way back" tone of voice I've come to know so well, I come to help him, he runs away. Repeat ad nauseum. Once I aaaalmost caught him when he finally let me pet him, but as I grabbed for the scruff of his neck my hand slipped in the edge of the brick ledge I was laying on and he got away, thats when the majority of my injuries were incurred. The rest of the day the cat couldve been eaten by wild dogs or kidnapped by feral midgets for all I cared. I was sick of killing myself trying to help him and I could tell that the neighboors were sick of hearing my mother and I calling for him all fucking day.

1:30am this morning he starts crying again, in earnest this time, he REALLY wants to come home. I decide to give him one last chance and I hurriedly threw on my chuck taylors and cover up the tiny little satin neglige thingy I was sleeping in with a bath robe that refuses to stay closed, grab my keys and go. This time I am successful. Eventually. As entertaing as I'm sure it was for the neighboors to see me all bent over in barely anything at all, someone was either so annoyed at hearing me calling for that cat AGAIN or understandably freaked out by someone creeping around the side of the building and crawling half underneath it in the middle of the night and called a security guard, which I didnt know we had. We were face to face as I came around the corner but he did nothing but stand there looking very surprised. And then turned to watch me walk back to my appartment. You know, just in case.

No doubt I'm already beginning my reputation as the neighboorhood "crazy cat lady" which puts me about 40 years ahead of my schedual.

*Milo and my cat, Yossarian, "Yoshi" for short, are both named out of Catch 22 by Heller. If you havent read it yet, shame on you.

**Actually I believe its the standard service entrence to underneath the building. Whatever electricians etc who have to go under the buliding get paid, it isnt enough. I bet there are spiders the size wolves down there. ::shudder::


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