TIME OUT FOR CHEEKY
I don't kids. I have cats. At least I had cats. By last summer the 3 cats I loved had disappeared without a trace. Ray Gilkey, Nicole Ritchie and Spooky Cat were all gone. I can only assume that the pack of coyotes that run behind my house had finally found a way to get them between their teeth. If I did have kids I'm sure a few of them would've been torn apart by now also. Hell, who can keep their eye on 'em 24/7. It's nature's way.
Then in August, Teehoo presented me with a noisy box for my birthday. Out popped a big eyed, creme colored, fluffy ball of fur. It was the last thing I wanted. A stray cat had followed a friend of hers home in Brooklyn Heights and had kittens. The bitch was wild and my little SOB was a chip off the old block. You'd think a kitten from the Heights would have better manners. Nonetheless we bonded and before you knew it the kitten was crawling up in my beard and falling asleep. Awwwwwwww.
That was summer. Now the kitten is a cat and in this bone chilling cold we are both in exile out at WSSP. Shewho is in London and Cheeky and I are looking after her house and cat Mojo. Mo is old and fragile, has all kinds of health issues and needs constant care. As I prepare a syringe of medicine for him, Cheeky raises his backside, arches his tail, and flies full force at skinny Mo. He never has a chance. Mo moans, falls over and tries to escape, Cheeky up his ass. This is my life: go to the Dr. with my bad back, try not to freeze to death, and do my best to keep Cheeky from killing Mo with his exuberance. Thankfully I'm unemployed. Who would have time for a job? They have separate rooms, food dishes and litter boxes. Last night as I petted Mo's fragile frame and apologized for my cat, Cheeky bum rushed the door, jumped in Mo's litter box and took a giant, stinky crap. So fucking rude! I'm at my wit's end. Maybe it was his lenient upbringing and late breast feeding. As i write this he jumps on my keyboard. The fucker can read my mind.
We're still over two months away from turkey season. My planned trip to Cuba is on hold because of my back and the winter shows no sign of letting up. I know i should be concerned more with world affairs or at least try engage the art world, but I just can't work up the enthusiasm to give a shit. Cheeky cocks his head and stares wide-eyed up at me. Oh OK. I fluff up my beard and he crawls right in, as Mo moans in disgust. I just can't stay mad at him. He may be an SOB but he's my SOB. I'm thinking of getting a snake. Maybe a little diversity would be a good thing.