I just saw something on the news I thought I’d share with you: in Santa Fe, police pulled over a suspected drunk driver, and were stunned to find that the driver was only 13 years old…and, in fact, intoxicated. But before you lament the state of the world, in which a kid has to miss the first day of 7th grade because he’s in the clink on a DWI charge, please note that he wasn’t alone: his GRANDMOTHER — also drunk — was in the car! Awww. It’s nice when families spend time together.
In other, completely unrelated news, my cat, King Chunk, has taken to partying all night, every night. Normally, he stays in his section of the house (the section where his food bowl lives), because, being a cat, he gets nervous when he is too far away from his kibble. But the last few nights, he has come to my side of the house and, rather than settling down to sleep like a good kitty, has proceeded to meow. All. Night. Long. No inquiries into his well-being have yielded any insight, and trust me, I’ve asked him repeatedly what’s up.
I am at a bit of a loss as to what has prompted Charlie’s all-night raves. Drugs? Religious fervor? Existential angst? Regardless of the cause, there’s obviously only one thing to do: summon Jackson Galaxy.
Are you familiar with Jackson Galaxy? He is on a show called My Cat from Hell, in which people on the verge of cat-induced divorce, bankruptcy, or suicide appeal to Jackson — Guru of All Things Feline — to rescue them from their desperate despondency.
In he swoops, with his creative facial hair and a guitar case full of kitty whips, to save the day and forestall the foreclosure proceedings!
Galaxy’s advice generally involves at least two of the following:
- Remodeling your entire house to include an elevated system of cat pathways, tunnels, and a tiny monorail system to carry Mister Whiskers from the kitchen to his own personal Magic Kingdom of age-appropriate toys in what used to be your home office.
- Quitting your job in order to devote an appropriate amount of time (typically about eight hours a day) to interacting with your cat in an age and breed-appropriate manner, to ensure that he has appropriately high self-esteem and a generalized sense of well-being.
- Removing your aged mother to a nursing home so that her bedroom can be retrofitted to accommodate Mister Whisker’s new thermal-heated deluxe cushion-comfort pillow-top king-sized fully-electric tilting kitty bed.
- Establishing screening and security measures, to ensure that anyone who enters your home (and thus, the presence of Mister Whiskers) has been trained in human-feline interaction, thereby sparing the cat from any unnecessary stress.
So far, I haven’t made the call to see if Jackson Galaxy is available (he would have to fit me in between gigs with his band, book signings, online Q & A sessions, paid appearances, designing cat toys for the mass market, and speaking engagements); I’m hoping that Charlie will calm down on his own.
In the meantime, I leave you with Henri the Existential Cat — mainly because many of my peeps are now back on campus and may need something to watch while the new seminarians are at orientation and they’re having to wait around to be useful: Henri the Existential Cat.
Also — in totally unrelated news — my friend Luigi, who graciously set up the FB page for the blog because what I know about social media could fit on the tip of Jackson Galaxy’s pointy beard, has now turned the page over to me. This means I can now, for the first time ever, see your comments on the whatsleftundone Facebook page! Yay!! I’ve had great fun reading them today. And, someday, I may even figure out how to write back…. (Lisa M., you were never an assclown, and I miss you!)
In the meantime, thanks for reading!