It wasn't too long ago, okay almost twenty years, when my idea of a good time might also include flying to LA for some art thing on Rodeo Drive, dancing till the wee hours with Willi Ninja, the irrespressible, recently deceased vogue star of the documentary Paris is Burning, while the short guy from Bonnie and Clyde entertained notions of hooking up with me later. Haaaaa.
Not so much anymore. Not at
all anymore. Maybe because I remember those days, being sober and
all. Maybe because I can no longer pass the physical.
Now my idea of a good time doesn't require plane rides, new outfits, extra makeup, or waxing.
Instead, I will be cat-sitting during
the next three weeks for a member of my family who is going on a cruise. Last night we had
dinner at a local Asian spot to discuss my responsibilities. Over egg foo young and chicken with black
mushrooms and peas, she gave me the lowdown on what to expect.
There are two kitties. I know
them well from years of visiting them on weekends and holidays. Mrs.
Farley is a beautiful, classic Maine Coon cat, very long of leg
and body, tall, regal, and stand-offish. With a gorgeous, boa-length tail.
Douglas, her companion, is supposed to be a Maine Coon cat too, but his
woefully short for the breed, and unlike Mrs. Farley who is slim and
trim, Dougie's shape could only be described as round. He's also
funny in a cat sort of way and, unlike most Maine Coon felines, he's
actually very friendly. He even loves to have his belly
scratched. Not Mrs. Farley. She can't be bothered. Or,
more accurately, won't allow it.
Anyway, in lieu of a social life,
despite being asked on a date for the end of February [at my age I need the extra
time to get ready], I will be spending the next few weeks hanging with
the fur balls, feeding them Fancy Feast twice a day and cleaning their
They in turn will let me share the
queen size bed they sleep on and let me have part of their couch for
watching TV. Did I mention the freezer will be well stocked? And there's cable.
My dance card is full.