the rescue mission

there are a lot of puddles in my apartment. furry ones with tails. they ooze into dark nooks and spread themselves out on the bathroom tiled floor. it's easy to pick them up - they're rag-doll limp and drip fur with every jostle. it's hard to keep a grip to carry them into the living room. not the clawsteethhissing difficulties usually associated with annoyed cats, but a benign resignation to the oppressive heat that radiates from floor, windows, ceiling and gets trapped close to body by layers of thick fur. these are hot cats. hot DUMB cats.

you see, i'm picking up pedro because he shouldnt be sitting in the sun in on the 100 degree porch. he should be sitting on the couch in the air conditioned living room, getting pet and pampered (even annoying rebels need a little love). you may not have realized this, but pedro has 2 counterparts. They get along rather well. think, the 3 Amigos in fur, not hats. anyways, bailey (aka Chevy Chase) is already in there, sitting on the blue polar fleece blanket, sprawled out and purring. romeo, jealous that i picked up pedro first, is still sitting in the kitchen, sulking. once pedro is in the safe haven, next to b, with a little treat, i go for romeo.

"hi kitty kitty! are you hot? you look hot. lets go to the other room where it's cold!! good boy... good boy!" one must cajole jealous cats. i'm a girl, this is acceptable behavior. I pick the gray puddle up and he collapses in my arms - halfway grateful for attention, halfway resenting the excess body heat. once in the a/c room, he jumps down, swishes his tail and flumps on the ground, exuding "dont touch me". i dont touch him.

the puddles are re-forming into cats again. still dripping fur everywhere, but perking up - playing lightly and enjoying some treats. b and i, ourselves recovering puddles, searching through mindless monday tv for anything at all.

"i'm hungry. lets eat"
"ok, what do you want?"
"leftovers"
"you get them"
"no. you get them"
"rock, paper, scissors?"
"too much effort"
"eff you"
"eff you"
...
"i'm still hungry"
"i'm getting the pizza"
"grab the ice cream too"
"eff you"
"eff you"*

*slightly dramatized for heat intensive purposes (but not by much)

i get up, and brace myself for what lays behind the blanket tacked onto the door frame. WHOOSH. note the lack of exclamation point. it's like getting hit in the face with a sizzling frying pan, minus the bonus bacon. the second i open the fridge i hear "meow... meow... meow?" and 3 newly revitalized kitties have rushed to my "assistance".

"its useless to beg. go away." is all i can muster. i take food into safe haven.

20 minutes later i notice - no cats. dammit. i look out into the abyss. sulking, sloppy, furry puddles again. rescue mission #2 commences...