So this whole stray cat thing goes on and on, as things do if you let them, if you are a dramaqueen.
It is a wee bit overwhelming having this little living being in my studio because I feel responsible for his emotional well-being and so I ask my therapist for advice but she just asks me what I think she should think that I should think and do. So, I look to fortune cookies and friends for advice.
(He who hurries cannot walk with dignity.” Thanks ever so much, that’s very helpful.)
Now that she’s a male I have named him Chauncey, as was the popular choice in my naming-the-cat poll the other day. Captain Marvel Chauncey, the amazing (<–for some reason which I don’t yet know, but am certain of) stray cat. Chauncey for short with Marvie as nickname-in-waiting. I mostly think of him as Chauncey but call him Marvie, which rhymes with Harvey which makes me think of spying on my parents’ grownup parties when they’d laugh and eat Harvey Wallbanger cake.
And wear maxi skirts and have little cocktail napkins with funny things on them and eat little colored cream cheese sandwiches. We’d crouch on the top steps to the finished basement and go running every time someone went up the stairs to use the bathroom. I’d help make the colored cream cheese sandwiches and little folded mushroom pastry things and marvel over the jello molds. See how it all comes together? Harvey, Marvel, Marvie, grownups, responsibility, raising a stray cat. But I was talking about the stray cat. Continue reading