It’s time we have a sit down with the cat. And let me make it clear this cat is not my cat. Or even our cat. This is my Fiancé’s cat. A distinction made very clear from the start. There’s no way I would pay for an animal that plots your death every day and thinks it’s more intelligent than you. An animal with built in claws sharper than Wolverine’s yet too dumb to know how to use them to be a caped crusader or anything useful at all. in fact this cat is a ‘special’ cat with a stub for a tail and thumbs on each paw, yet it can’t pour itself a drink or flush the toilet.
The reason for this must needed sit down is they this cat is delusional. He believes he is a super hero. A lean, agile, crime fighting cat that can leap tall buildings in a single bound. A stealth super beast with the powers to maneuver through a mission impossible style course with ease and skill, totally undetectable to the Hunan eye. Traveling at the speed of light.
This cat believes he should be cloned. The prototype for class warfare soldier.
He is the poster cat for “being all that you can be…and more”. This cat believes HE is the most interesting man in the world and can’t believe Dos Equis hasn’t contacted him yet for the part.
He recently beat out Mary Poppins in a pole to be ‘Practically Perfect in every way’
This cat is not man’s best friend but man’s closest thing to God.
This cat is THE shit.
So, I have to be tactical in my approach for my sit down with delusional cat.
I have to think about a way to approach the fact that he has, ahem, piled on the pounds recently. Not a fat cat per se, but since we are approaching the holiday season, I can quote South Park and coin their phrase ‘festively plump’. Big boned, some junk in his trunk. He can no more leap tall buildings than I can. In fact he has trouble making a simple jump. Not to mention he is struck with fear at the opportunity of stepping outside. A crime fighting super sleuth with agoraphobia. Now I know, it’s hard to come to terms with aging. He’s a shadow of his former self. How many super beasts puke up on the floor, cry when they don’t get fed and even throw a tantrum if their food bowl is empty by tipping the bowl in to their own bucket of poop?
Being too hard on the old fella, I hear you say. Let me finish with giving you a very recent example.
Time: 0100 hours
Action: cat attempts “leap” from bed to dressing table.
Distance of leap: 1.5 feet
Outcome: mirror knocked over, glass of water knocked on floor. Papers pushed on floor as cat tries to slide to a halt. Humans woken.
Cat response: a look of disdain at humans for leaving such mess in his pathway. Stupid humans. Cat saunters off with a dismissive swish of stub leaving destruction in his path. Mission failed and 2 angry humans.
So I ask you. Delusional, demonic or just plain dumb?
I’m currently sitting in my California sandwich. Los Angeles last weekend, Los Angeles next weekend, but for now I am home, where the heart is.
For anyone who doesn’t know me, I am from London, but a California girl at heart. Something to do, I think, with being made in America – more specifically, made in the Valley, this is a fact that most people don’t know about themselves…. where they were conceived, yet, my parents have proudly showed me the hotel on Ventura Blvd where I was created. Who said the Brits were prudish? So, from the age of zero I have felt like I belong in the City of Angels.
Now that I currently reside in Dallas, Texas (I say it like that because the locals never just say they’re from Dallas, it’s always with pride that they announce city and state – my fiance who is from a smaller town, also advises on the population of the town – it’s cute. Texas pride at it’s finest) …sorry a tangent…. anyway, now that I live in Dallas, I try to get back to LA as much as possible. Other friends who had to leave LA for work, will also tell you that they share the same feeling as I do, when I touch down on the runway at LAX I feel like I am home. The 405, the traffic, the thick layer of smog and the pressure to be skinny, tanned, and famous. It sounds hideous, but it’s home. It’s the greatest city in the world. LA can be a hot mess or just a dirty mess, but you cant help but be in love.
Being English in the US has its pros and cons. I flit between “Rule Britannia” and “God Bless America”.
I certainly don’t feel one land is greater than the other, although Americans have no qualms in sharing their beliefs with me, it is no bad thing – are you lucky enough to say you are proud of your country?
I have never experienced such pride in the armed forces. I get chills when I walk in to DFW airport on occasion to a plane load of soldiers walking through the terminal. Everyone stops what they are doing and everyone in the terminal either salutes or applauds the soldier, the marine, the sailor, or the airman. You can’t help but be moved by the incredible admiration and respect that the people of America have for their armed forces.
I remember sitting in a restaurant and a uniformed soldier walks in. He sits down at the bar and a couple on a table next to me send a beer over to the soldier and thanks him for all he does for the country. I had never seen it before. It doesn’t happen in the UK, or if it does, not often enough and no one I mention this to has ever seen such a thing. I loved what that couple did and I continue to see it all over America.
I may not be American, but I appreciate those men serving, fighting and protecting the country I live in and countries I have never and will never travel to. Not for themselves, but to help those that cannot help themselves, a selfless act one I respect, and hell yeah we should applaud them, salute them and buy them a drink. God Bless America