“More on Bar Cats”, from Big Whiskey Roadie and Supporter, Suzanne

Suzanne just can’t go drinking without running into one kitty or another.

More bar cats? Somehow, yes. Maybe there have always been cats at bars, and I am only just noticing them now due to the recent fanaticism with the Cat.

So, I have a seat at the bar and order my ginger ale, and I see this thing looking down on me from a shelf behind the bar. At first I thought it was a pug – turns out, cat. I reach for my camera and commence snapping photos.
When the bartendress returns with my G-ale I ask what “that thing” on the shelf is. She says somebody brought it in, blah blah blah, but they call it “Catdog” because it  straddles the line between canine and feline. I agree and ask for a closer look. She sets it next to me on the bar. The men next to me stare in disgust at the wretched, dusty thing.
I took pictures!
When I was done, Catdog remained on the bar for an uncomfortably long time. Every time I turned around it was sitting there, looking at me.  Judging.
Enjoy the photos!

Shortly after receiving this email this morning, Jake and I walked up to the Juniata campus via his rainy-day-bike-ride route– basically, through every back alley and construction site possible. I SWEAR I saw the real version of this animal– perhaps the model upon which Suzanne’s bar cross-creature was based. He was jiggly and unpleasant.


About bearicaquinn

Smallish, smushy in the sad parts, certainly destined for cat-lady-dom. Enjoys boats, bikes, black coffee, pug faces, sourdough bread, the morning when you have slept long enough, beards, mountainsides, art, rooftops, etc. Will continue to live in things that are interestingly shaped. So octopus.
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