I so envy people that can just enjoy their pets.
I remember when I was a little girl and I had a basset hound named Jenny. I was about 8 or 9. If jenny was sleeping in the room I was in, even if I had to go to the bathroom, I waited until she woke up naturally because I knew if I got up she’d feel that she had to wake up and follow me.
I’ve written about this before but I think it bears repeating. My niece Stephanie and I were driving to Montauk and there was a woman in the next car trying to drive with her head all the way forward because her cat was laying on the back of her neck. Steph said “If you had a cat, that would be you.”
It’s these many years later and when I decided that I wanted a pet, forgetting Stephanie’s dire warning, I weighed all my options before making my choice.
I knew that a dog would take over my life. I wouldn’t want to leave him alone so my new found freedom would be jeopardized. Remember how I felt tortured when I left Liz’s dog Rupert alone and mostly I didn’t. That is why I decided on a cat. They are independent and don’t mind being left for short periods.
What I didn’t take into consideration is how crazy I am.
My home looks like cat Disneyland with toys, castles and little fake mice everywhere. I watch Elvis constantly worried that he’s bored or lonely which keeps me from leaving my house for any length of time.
I realized that I could never go away for even a weekend with someone only coming in once or twice a day to feed him so I asked my doorman if he would stay in my apartment if I had to go away which is a distinct possibility because as you know I’ve just been hired by Yahoo Travel to write about, shall we say, MY TRAVELS!!!!
Now my latest nightmare, my terrace. I have a terrace with about a 3 or 4 foot high brick wall and about another 4 feet of iron fence above it. Now that the weather is nice I sometimes sit out there. When I did this Elvis sat at the door watching me and last week I decided to let him out. Liz’s cat Puss used to go out on her terrace all the time.
Mostly Elvis walked around looking at stuff and then he’d find a shady spot and just curl up. When I’d go inside he’d usually follow me a short while later.
The other day I saw him walking on the brick wall, outside the fence (the fence has bars spaced far enough so that he can move back and forth easily). My heart stopped. I forced myself to stand there quietly so as to not startle him. He looked over the side, walked a short distance and came back onto the terrace.
That was it for me. No more going on the terrace for him. Then I started thinking about quality of life.
When people have outdoor cats they risk predators and cars and all kinds of things but they let the cats out anyway. Elvis spends a good part of his day looking out onto the terrace, either in front of the glass door or on the window sill.
Last night Julie was here and saw Elvis walking on the wall. She froze and said “You can’t let him out again” she added something about the damage I did to her heart to have her watch him do that wall thing.
I know she’s right. I’ll try to keep him inside but it will break my heart to watch him look longingly at the outside world. Remember I said I was crazy.
The truth is I just don’t know what to do. I know I’m opening myself up for a million horror cat/terrace stories but please don’t. They will only make me crazier.
“Why did you title this, Jesus Hates Me? I like your writing, but I don’t read writers who are purposely offensive to God. So I am unfollowing you. I don’t wish you good luck. I wish you a soul and the humility to realize you are not God. ”
One thing you may not know is that the first time I receive a comment from someone, I am given the choice of approving it for publishing at the bottom of my post or not.
When I read this I toyed with not approving it but the more I read it, the more I loved it. If she had stopped after “offensive to God” I would have disagreed (since I don’t feel that I was) but understood and actually felt bad that I hurt her.
The very beauty of speaking about God’s love and not wishing me good luck and claiming that I have no soul made this letter very dear to me.
I have always loved this kind of thing.
Many years ago dave wrote some disco songs, one of which was reviewed by The Amsterdam News as sounding like a pornographic letter. dave and I kept that for years.
It also brought to mind a letter written in 1991 that I have kept on my wall over my desk until this very morning when I tried to scan it for you but it fell apart in the scanner so I’ll have to rewrite it .
First a bit of background. My sister Phyllis and I were walking our dogs when Phyl fell and broke her knee. My sister had just recovered, we hoped, with her second bout of cancer and this was devastating to both of us. I was sitting on the ground with her holding both dogs and waiting for an ambulance when I did what I always did, I called dave. He was at his copyist Emile’s office. Emile’s secretary, I won’t say his name, answered the phone.
I told him I had to speak to dave immediately. He started joking around. “Now let me see, is he here or isn’t he?”
“Get dave. This is important”. He kept joking around until I started screaming at him.
The rest, you’ll see, is in the letter dated 4/19/91.
It is in formalspeak. He even printed my name and address on the top. The letter is in all capitals. Here goes,
OVER THE PAST TWO YEARS OF WORKING IN EMILE’S OFFICE I HAVE TAKEN ENDLESS MESSAGES, WROTE LETTERS, TAKEN FAXES, CALLED MESSENGERS AND DONE MANY MANY OTHER FAVORS FOR DAVE. 9 TIMES OUT OF 10 THESE FAVORS HAVE HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH BUSINESS RELATED TO EMILE’S OFFICE. BUT I DON’T MIND IN THE LEAST DOING THESE FAVORS FOR DAVE. IN FACT I FIND IT EXCITING & REWARDING(HOWEVER MUNDANE THE CHORES) TO BE INVOLVED IN HELPING A MUSICIAN THE CALIBER OF DAVE. I FIND HIS TALENT AMAZING IN ITS DEPTH, SCOPE & VARIETY.
ALSO OVER THE PAST 2 YEARS THERE HAS NEVER BEEN A CROSS WORD BETWEEN DAVE AND MYSELF OR YOU & MYSELF. OUR RELATIONS HAVE BEEN NOTHING BUT CORDIAL & JOVIAL. NEEDLESS TO SAY I WAS SHOCKED , SURPRISED AND DEEPLY HURT WHEN YOU CALLED ME “AN INCREDIBLE ASSHOLE”. IF THERE IS SOMETHING YOU WANT CHANGED IN THE STYLE OR SUBSTANCE OF THE WAY I EXECUTE THESE ENDLESS FAVORS I DO FOR DAVE YOU CAN JUST COMMUNICATE IT IN A FRANK NON-INSULTING MANNER. I WILL BE VERY HAPPY TO ACCOMMODATE YOUR WISHES TO THE VERY BEST OF MY ABILITY.
I AM WILLING TO FORGIVE AND FORGET THIS UNPLEASANT INCIDENT, ALTHOUGH AN APOLOGY FROM YOU WOULD NOT BE REJECTED OR INAPPROPRIATE. I TRUST THAT THIS WAS JUST AN ISOLATED DISCORD IN AN OTHERWISE HARMONIOUS RELATIONSHIP.
Now I won’t go into much detail about how little I cared about the admiration this little shit had for dave but this guy worked for Emile who made a great deal of money from dave and his job was to make dave and the other arrangers that were in that office happy.
I can see this letter is still pissing me off but not enough to throw it away. I’m going to tape it up and put it back on the wall.
And by the way my relations with this little weasel were never “JOVIAL”