May 212019

The cats (Drew & Penelope, or Bambi & Peenlop, or Drewburu & Splenis, or Jinjoo & Bora – whatever you want to call them!) love when the weather warms up because it means we start leaving the door to the backporch open and it’s like, the kitty cat lanei, but with less palm leaves, more Devil rugs.

Such exhaustion. Also, don’t mind the messy rug. Their scratch pad is next to it so scratch pad crumbs get everywhere.

They’re living their best back porch life, you guys. Get on their level.

They’ll be hissing at each other in 3…2…1.

In other cat news, I had the saddest dream about my best cat Marcy (R.I.P. Pretty Rainbow Sparkles). She had run away to this housing development very close to where I grew up, called Deer Park. For whatever reason, I walked the whole way there instead of driving and when I left my home in Brookline, it was spring, but by the time I made it to Deer Park, there was a considerable amount of snow on the ground. So really, in Pittsburgh, this definitely could have been plausible, lol.

Anyway, I was crawling around next to someone’s house, super early in the morning, like 4am or something ungodly, trying to get Marcy from under a bush or something, when the homeowner came out and I was like oh shit I swear I’m not a burglar please don’t call the police or exercise your right to shoot ’em up on your property.

But the broad was like “ok peace” and got in her car like it was no big deal to find someone laying on their stomach under a bush in her yard.

Meanwhile, Marcy had scampered away and she ended up in someone’s house and then I was there too without ever having knocked on the door or anything because MY DREAM MY RULES and the lady in the house was holding Marcy. I could tell she was really starting to get attached and panicked that she would want to keep her. I was scrambling to rip Marcy from this dumb bitch’s arms and I was begging her to be gentle because of Marcy’s tumor (which she had in real life).

Then, and this is the worst part, I said to the lady, “She actually died a few years ago; this is just a dream.”


Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her and miss her and convince myself that I can still feel her fur in between my fingers and hear that guttural growl she would slowly emit when she had had enough of my incessant cooing and groping.

I miss her :(

Say it don't spray it.

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