Last night I dreamed that my mother had sent me a plane ticket and that I’d travelled north to farewell the cat. She was refusing to die until I’d said goodbye – in person. I’m not sure how she communicated this to my mother but I suspect that she spelled it out in biscuits or possibly used Morse code puncture marks on a parental arm. She was pretty insistent about it though. The flying away meant that I couldn’t work the weekend which, alas, I am doing. My boss was pretty pissed to know I was out of state and I did feel pretty bad. The cat, however, seemed entertained. She’s always been a one for getting her way by any means possible.
I phoned my parents earlier this evening. The cat’s still alive [touching a whole damn forest] and is being almost ridiculously well aside from the fact that she’s now eating like a horse. My poor parents who expected to be kitty-less and over cat-product stocked in very short order are having to purchase food and litter. We’re now starting to question the vet. They’re wondering, should she last much longer [another forest], if they should ask for their money back. I’m thinking we sue for damages; you should have seen my eyes last Saturday. Maybe on Monday they’ll call the vet for a wtf update.
It’s very much on my mind, this peculiar limbo.
Strange bloody cat.