Cat Days of Summer: An Influx of Love in the Face of TOO MUCH HOT

Dudes, it’s hot. It’s really, really hot. The weather obscures my view of Manhattan, rendering everything a sort of thick, impenetrable film of white hot heat, heavy with the promise of a rain that will not entirely relieve. I have been sleeping with the fan at my feet, and this morning I woke in a fever dream and changed positions, letting it blow directly over my head. I am replacing fluids as quickly as I am losing them: lots of water, iced Darjeeling, tomato juice. (Last night, a well-deserved Gatorade.) I am not built for the heat and Olive doesn’t seem to be either, and we are both spending our time in the apartment just kind of lying down, staring at each other.



I really want to move to Maine, and this desire increases daily. I would like to be cold most of the time. However, summer is improved/defined by certain things: basil/cucumber lemonade consumed in glasses filled with ice; sweating friends gathering around the window, a fan; a breathless bike tour of Brooklyn on the hottest day perhaps ever resulting in plunging into the cold cold ocean at the end and bobbing around before falling asleep by some rocks and then biking home until we thought we would die; drinking beer in basement bars and dancing with friends old and new to the thoroughly American jukebox; tacos. Also, gifts and kisses from loved ones. Here are some of those things.

I am sending gifts and kisses in response, but mostly kisses.

A very adorable birthday card from Mormor!

A package arrives from my New Orleanians, including this card…

…and this postcard from a pet sitting service called FUR-DE-LYS. Ahhhhh.

My own Poochcat (WHO I WILL BE SEEING SOON IN THE DESERT, WOO!) gave Olive these bowls, which means that Olive no longer knocks around her food dishes, spilling gross gravy substance and water everywhere and I’m like “don’t do it again” and “i love you”.

And my Emma gave Olive a cat grass kit, which came with a lovely bowl which I decided was better suited for eating with. Anyway, I planted the grass which sprouted brave and strong but Olive loved her cat grass so much that she just destroyed it. A true sign of devotion!

My Alaskan-flung Pop sent me this incredible postcard the other day, writing (in her delightful, recognizable, knobby script) “…you will never believe it but the mayor of Talkeetna is a cat named Stubbs. He has no tail and apparently the town was mad that the county was making them have a mayor so they wrote in Stubbs and now he’s the mayor. He goes wherever he wants and is pretty cute”.



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.
This entry was posted in Cat Kitsch, Mixed Bag O'Cats, Olive, The Cats of Summer and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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