An Account of the Great Misadventure of Miss Kitty Rou’ Well every night after dinner, at about 10:00, we all go for walkies out in the hallway. Last night, we all trooped as far west as the elevator lobby, nearly 65 feet away! It was very exciting and we were, well, excited. We marched home from our Grand Adventure in high spirits. But Dad was really tired. The day before we went across the water and took a bus up the hill and walked around through some construction, into a darkened and closened Saturday VA clinic, and finally to Audiology where they tested his ears. Then we got lost and went down this dark hall, and followed this noise, up a bit of a ramp around two corners down an elevator up an elevator turn right no left please help us and finally out into the silvery day. That kind of thing leaves a person hungry for some phô and springrolls so we had to get off the bus in Little Saigon at 12th & Jackson and went to Phô Sô #1 in the Ding How shopping center where we did big best rare beef phô and eight rolls, fried and spring, and flan (shhh for $16!). Whoa, Nellie! Then we got on the bus to roll down Jackson to the ferry… but then I hear “Creo que veo la madre” (I believe I see Mother) spoken in that soft murmur that signals me that I can acknowledge or not. So I say into the stranger-filled void that is a public bus “Soy la madre. ¿Quién habla?” (I am Mother, who speaks?) and for goodness’ sake this somewhat disheveled heap across the way unfolds to reveal the grinning countenance of Andrés, one of “The Guys” who’d gotten injured on a boat. So that was major fun catching up on all the who’s and where’s of “The Guys” – they’re Spanish-speaking (sort of) day laborers who lived under the freeway. Oh! Kitty Rou’. Of course. See. We were really really tired when we got back and went hard asleep. Got up Sunday and Dad decides to pickle 5 lbs of beets (!) and he did and they’re delicious. But at our age it takes two days to recover from a trip off the island and there’s just not any beet-pickling energy in there the next day. So last night. Well. We were really tired. And, well, ummm. We locked Kitty Rou’ out in the hallway. Say it out loud: We just left her out there. Redman Miles shouted and hollered and tried to tell us; he refused to move from the kitchen and just kept up yow-yow-yowzers, he said, Kitty Rou’ is out in the hall! We ignored him. He wouldn’t quit. Then I heard him change pitch and position and all night long he was calling at the door. He talked to Kitty Rou’ all through that terrible cold and dark night (with no litterbox!). He’s so noble! So faithful! In the morning it became obvious that our cat-census was off by over 30%. I told Dad she’s out in the hall nope says he how could that be… So there she was, huddled in the one corner where she could see our door (and hear Miles calling to her). She, of course, wouldn’t come out until Dad crawled under there and picked her up. I told him that’s how cats get “lost” – they get upset, they hide. It’s what cats do. No, they don’t respond when you call. They’re hiding. So a very relieved Kitty Rou’ came safely home, ate first breffust and went to the powder room. Miles was delerious and ran this way and ran that way and squeaked and played. Through it all? Mrrphh was either utterly indifferent or, well, um, focused on me maybe. Heh heh. The little sod.
Posted on: Mon, 03 Nov 2014 23:33:37 +0000
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