Cursed with Cats (post from last night)
DAMNIT. On the way to work this morning, I made the colossal error of petting a slightly skittish fluffy orange cat with a dirty nose. She looked like a big marmalade puff ball. She was timid at first, but then in love, and she followed me down the sidewalk. She wore a brown flea collar, so I didn't worry too much. At the end of the day, I saw her again when I walked back to my car. She was in the same place, and now meowing and digging at a door to no avail. FUCK. I debated what I should do, asked this guy standing on the porch next door if he knew her. He didn't. If he wanted her. He said, I already have too many cats. I left her there, thinking that she has a dirty nose because she's probably been trying to burrow under the door to get back inside. Where are her people? (For the record, I don't know that she's a she. She just seemed girlish). I drove away, heartless. But now, if I see her again tomorrow, what should I do? I can't leave her. I can't bring her home. I do not want to be the Angelina Jolie of orphaned cats. And it's supposed to snow tomorrow. Can someone else please go find her and bring her home? She's just off of Jefferson and Broad Street--an orange fluffy cat with a spot on her nose. Please? Please go save her. I will help pay the vet bill, I promise. The only thing I can do is to bring in a cat carrier tomororw and if I do see her again, I'll scoop her up and take her to the no kill shelter about half an hour away. They don't euthanize animals unless they are extremely ill or really ugly (I made that up). So, I returned home after buying a bunch of dumb shit from Target and Ernesto escaped. Great. It was raining. I couldn't find him anywhere. Finally discovered him under a car and ruined my stockings dragging him out and back to safety. He doesn't know how good he has it, or maybe he does since he was also a found cat. Well, maybe I should give up and become an animal hoarder. Cats everywhere. Cats in the bed, in the shower, in the drain, in the underwear drawer, in the eaves. I had higher hopes for my life.
I have been obsessively surfing Target's Web site because Jess and Scott and Lucy gave me a generous gift card to buy whatever I may need for my new life. There are so many choices, it's overwhelming. They have 1,000 cute toasters--ones that will imprint smiley faces on your toast, but I also need a new alarm clock, better sheets, a digital camera, an i-Pod (no, of course, I don't need that--but I want it and they're not that expensive anymore). Maybe I should hoard it and wait until I truly need something. But anyway, thank you to J, S, and L for worrying about me and my buying needs and giving me the pleasure of having all of these possibilities.
Celia and I went to a boutique opening last night at Sun Moon Ranch or something like that. We were surrounded by beautiful people in high heels and waiters circulating white trash food as a joke--pbjs on Wonder bread, miniature hot dogs, deviled eggs and wine. We picked things up and put them down to show an interest and at one point, we sat down near the shoes and a photographer took our picture, though I am sure it will not be used unless he's doing it for a satirical piece because I was not cute (Celia was, but I believe she was scowling in the shot). I would be mortified if I showed up in Philebrity, clutching a glass of wine with a poppyseed stuck between my front teeth and the cat hair visible on my black, out of style sweater. Celia bought a pretty necklace and I bought a black rose ring and then later wondered if this was bad luck. Don't you give black roses to people you wish would die?