But some things will never go back to normal.
I never cry.
When I do it’s in short spurts. And usually i can control it.
The other night on Hollywood Blvd i was out of my mind. I probably shouldn’t a even been driving. Instinctively i knew that which is why i was not on the 101 but i got off on highland and drove slowly, hoping for stop lights.
At one i truly burst in tears.
Was it because i loved a cat?
Etienne used to try to insult me by mocking how much i loved my old girlfriends, even the ones who didn’t deserve it.
But a cat?
For years Prince was my favorite. Michael was standoffish and extremely cat like. Prince is like a dog.
Why would I be crying over Michael, who only recently has warmed up to me and strangers?
After thinking about this for days it’s because I feel since they live in this extremely safe, contained, small apartment, the only thing that could give them harm
Is me.
Either in what i feed them or drop and they accidentally eat, or not monitor them the brief times they’re outside, or by not getting them checkups on time
Or putting the wrong flea drops on them or somehow contracting fleas
Whatever it is, i am to blame if something goes wrong with them because they’re just innocent animals pretty much confined to the living room of
My apartment.
But it wasn’t shame. I was literally sad. For her.
Like it or not, for 7 years I’ve seen these cats pretty much every day.
I take care of everything that goes in and out of them.
Even during my most busy and trying times I make sure to spend a little quality time with them every day. Both of them. Separately and together.
I used to ask Amber, did you play with the cats today? Because two people have gotta be twice as good.
When I was young I remember accidentally watching some science thing about kids and how kids who aren’t touched or loved or told they’re good end up so fucked up. Stunted growth. All these bad things. So i just figured cats have got to be the same way.
And even dying in the Pet Hospital the nurses all said how friendly Michael was and playful and headbutting them.
She puts her paw up and touches your calf, as to say, pardon, can you pick me up, giant person?
I take credit for that because I’m sorry you do nothing all day, that nothing may as well be loving.
I held Prince extra close that night because of the two, he seems to be the one who eats more questionable things, how has he survived my messy bachelor pad?
Cut him open and it’ll be like a great white shark i bet. Marbles, baseball cards, a flip flop.
Yesterday i got her out of the hospital. Been feeding her though a tube. She looks at the wall, maybe stunned that she’s alive.
But probably just embarrassed that she has a neck brace on, basically, and a tube hanging out of her body.
Image is everything for that chick.
