The girlfriend who is full of love and destruction. How does the boy protect himself from her happiness that piles dirt upon his star struck wounds, while trading barbs as the body count regenerates? I imagined that was the caption of the notebook that was being scribbled in with so much fervor that five thousand miles away the elephants circled to protect the young. What had she done now? We could all relate, just ask the man yelling at the parking meter while the woman pushing the stroller failed to appease her small yellow dog. I suppose exercise was purported to be torture for those who partook and for those who confused zipper mesh as punishment from the big blue sky. I caught myself editing the brainwaves as the pen slowed and the waitresses flipped-back and forth they went- orange peel mist and tablecloths with a flowered maze. For sanity, I hope that this was an assignment born from pleading-poisoned milk and a birthright that was a leather strap with emotions locked in a shed. I put my coffee down not because I was done, but to see if anyone would want a pool of wayward grounds and gooey cream. To the poor soul who surely had no ideas as influential as mine, if we both lived underwater, we would be as trivial as the arm that reaches for what the head warns to keep away. But if dirt was our home, no shoveled discovery was ever unjoyfully received. That was unquenched attraction. Love and hatred that never drifts or drains. Across the way, the boy carries the stroller across the street.

July 19, 2012

Last night as I was reflecting….. in the litter box of course…..on the sumptuous meal that I had just devoured, there was a sudden ruckus at the front door. Before I knew what happened, there were three unruly kids running through the house. It seems that neighbor brat….as he will be now known as, had decided to invite his two younger brothers over to my house for what can only be described as a freak show. There was a 5-year-old jumping up and down on Ted’s bed, a two-year-old throwing whatever was not tied down against the wall and of course there was my nemesis burping the alphabet. With Ted gone, it was up to me to defend the house.  Since I was a kitten, I had always dreamed about being in a Rambo movie. Of course I knew that I was way too small and weak to go head to head against an entire army.   But given the right situation, I knew that I could kick some serious ass, and against this group of invaders, I liked my chances.

 Taking a page from my movie star mentor, I decided that I would employ a sneak attack from around the couch and under the coffee table. Unfortunately, I am not nearly as crafty as Sylvester Stallone (although I am much more talented and better looking), because as soon as I emerged into the open I was spotted. Damn… .thwarted before I could deliver  an ankle bite or even a shin scratch. I was hoping that the 5-year-old and the 2-year-old, or as I prefer to call them, Dumb and Dumber would dispose of me in a quick and relatively humane manner. My mistake. Like Rambo, I was famcing a devious adversary with little sense of right and wrong. While there were no bamboo cages or electric shocks, I  was  faced with a much more horryifying situation. Placed on the kitchen table, my legs were pulled and prodded for what seemed like hours by all three boys.  After finshing my examination, the 5-year-old thought it would be fun to play fighter pilot.  Apparently, he felt that the red stapler and the tape dispenser that were sitting on the table would make excellent dive bombers, and that my belly bore a striking resmblance to an aircraft carrier. Like clockwork, one would take off and one would land. A quick service announcement: remember the words Jake and Osbourne, because if in 20 years you are boarding a plane and you see a pilot with this name…run! Get off the plane, out of the airport and if possible out of the city. For starters, Jake has no idea what the term soft landing means, nor does he realize that a plane needs wheels to land on a runway. There were a couple of times he landed the stapler so hard, that I though it was going to pass right through me and out my back. I guess it’s a good thing that I watch the Rock Hard Abs dvd on a daily basis. Because my muscular physique (with a slight assist from the 10 lbs of food that was siting in my stomach) was the only thing that saved me from being turned completely inside out.  Even more alarming was the fact that Jake deemed it important for both planes to “meet” in the sky. Sometimes to exchange pleasantries and other times to play aerial demolitionderby. Either way, this game ususally ended with both planes making an violent crash landing on my runway.  Speaking of violent, I was slowly beginning to reconsider my anti-aggression stance towards children. I know that cats are supposed to be the ideal pet because of their temperment, but this was really pushing it. Maybe if I took a small chunk out of the 5-year-old’s arm, I would be doing the entire cat population a huge favor. Word would get out about my horrible act, sending shockwaves throughout the pet owning community. No longer would cats be recommended for families with small…and in my opinion…dangeorus children. The only suitable alternative would be to ship us to homes that would be idiot…I mean….kid free. There would be no more fur pulling, whisker chewing or eyeball poking.  The only things we would have to worry about are when do we eat and should I take another nap?

 For the second time today I was drooling and it wasn’t because of the Spam. I had lined up Jake for what was sure to be a painful and “unfortunate” mishap.

As I opened my mouth, I could almost hear the celebration in the feline community. But just as I was about bite down, I felt a swift smack on my butt. In all the excitement, I hadn’t noticed that the boys father was now standing behind me in the kitchen. Maybe he overheard me talking to myself, or maybe it was the sight of my teeth, but he was on to me and made it known that he did not approve of my plan. The boys took this as their cue to depart and quickly scampered home.  I was now alone with the largest human that I had ever seen. Readying for battle, I fluffed up as big as possible and cautiously inched towards my opponent. I knew that I had little chance of victory, but I was determined to go out like a soldier. I had been tortured by three mischevious children for most of the evening, the last thing that I feared was death. After what seemed like a marathon staredown,  this mountain of a man approached. He said nothing but quickly placed a small bowl of dry food at my feet.  After that he was gone. As I tried to understand what had just transpired, I realized that I had done exactly what I had set out to do. I had survived the enemy and drove him from my house. Hell I even got him to pay tasty reperations for the unalwful invasion . All this excitement had made me quite tired….so I decided to enjoy the spoils of my victory in the morning. As I drifted off to sleep…I realized that even though I’m not the strongest or the biggest I sure do have guts… And if Sylvestor Stallone ever wants to trade the jungle for the living room….than  maybe just maybe… there will be a place for me in a Rambo movie after all.