Giti was prodding me to write an essay on the awkwardness of American voting (even though I have sworn to never vote in another American election [See Why I Won’t Vote Again]) – and I can’t imagine how I might fill up an entire essay on how we Americans have to vote according to registered party lines – but since I do want to vote for Meg (and would LOVE to work for her) — I will somehow address this voting thang as I write about the disappearance of our crazy cat, Bimbo.
Son Austen selected Bimbo for me from a few potential kittens at the pet store we used to get all-of-the-food for his critters (his 4 snakes, the pac man frog, the guinea pigs, the fire belly toads and the multitude of lizards), and, where he volunteered his 6th Grade Summer. The reason I sought a kitten was because the kitten delivered by Big Mac (Sammy) lost its sibling en route to us – and, we didn’t want Sammy to be lonely: Bimbo was to replace Sammy’s deceased sibling (I can’t go into details as to the manner of the sibling’s death – too gory for my sensibilities)…and the reason we required cats is: we moved into a home that had rats (big uns!).
But when Bimbo got her first look at Sammy – she chased him out of his home – and Sammy, after saying good-bye to Giti — decided to move in with our strange neighbor, whom we have nicknamed Norman (after Norman Bates of ‘Psycho’ fame). One of our other neighbors alleges that Norman poisoned both of his pit bulls and managed to kill one-of-them – while Norman repeatedly complains that when we leave our cat food out – it attracts coyotes. I have yet to see a coyote on my property – but I have seen raccoons, squirrels and rats! Meanwhile, Neighbor Elanore – dressed in her daily Irish Green – feeds all of the neighborhood squirrels, and a plethora of birds. Norman also complains about many other things – but these complaints are grist for another day.
It was a-year-and-a-half after acquiring Bimbo that pet store owner, Chris, informed me that Austen had chosen for us – the MOST crazy of all possible cats: the female Calico (what did T.S. Eliot have to say about the female Calico?). Indeed – the vet that fixed Bimbo requested that we never, ever bring her their again. I almost lost two fingers trying to get her into the pet carrier. They sold us kitty downers should we ever need to knock her out to move her.
Well, it was just a few months later that Bimbo found her way into the basement (apparently some creatures, once-upon-a-time, managed to tunnel into our basement from the neighboring lot). But this “tunnel” was only a one-way trip – as Bimbo never seemed able to get out the way she got in (she just hung out in the basement). So after she spent a week in-the-basement, and wouldn’t follow our fish trail out to the front door, we decided to knock her out with kitty downers. She was staggered by a full pill (and some crumbs) – but not-to-the-point that she would allow herself to be taken. The vet later told us that three quarters of a pill should have killed her – but what can I say? Bimbo is a most crazy female Calico…