September 10, 2009

“Siren, j’accuse!”

Posted in Uncategorized at 10:15 am by the Green-Eyed Siren

God help me, I’ve been accused of behaving in a predictable manner. Worse, a manner predicted by John Scalzi, who, much as I am fond of him, requires no such satisfaction from me. And even worse, the accusation came from Jeanne over at Necromancy, a woman with whom I feel a certain internet bond, a woman with whom I share a birthday, for God’s sake! In her otherwise fine review of the book Julie and Julia (which, I will smugly point out, I read LONG BEFORE the movie came out; I remember this because it is probably THE ONLY BOOK I READ in 2007, a Christmas gift that I actually managed to read to its conclusion instead of giving up after the second chapter due to irretrievably lost brain cells sacrificed on the altar of motherhood), Jeanne COMPETLEY RANDOMLY comes out swinging at me, poor, overwhelmed, underslept Siren, saying that my blog “unfortunately seems to have, so far, followed John Scalzi’s typical three posts: ‘here’s my blog…sorry I haven’t updated in a while…here’s a picture of my cat.'”

A picture of my cat. A PICTURE of my CAT.

I ask you, have you seen ANY PICTURES OF CATS on this blog? No need to rifle through my archives; I will tell you the answer. NO. No, you have not seen a single cat photograph on this blog. No cats here. I know this without checking because of the heartbreaking truth of our seemingly happy Unfocused Household: Unfocused Me is DEATHLY ALLERGIC to felines, and Junior is on his way there as well. As a result, I had to give up dreams of cat companionship IN ORDER TO BE WITH THE MAN I LOVE. And now you taunt me, Jeanne, twisting the ice pick that has been lodged in my heart for my last fifteen feline-free years? I ask you: is this right? Is this proper? Is this, I ask, DECENT?

No. No, Jeanne, it is not. No cats here, my birthday-sharing friend. No dogs, no hamsters, no guinea pigs, no members of the avian set. No lizards, either. Only Big Pink Fishie swims stalwart and steadfast in kinship with the Unfocused Family, as he has since he came to our tiny basement apartment just after senior year of college, when we were practically children ourselves. (There were hermit crabs here, once, long ago…but I can’t talk about it now—not yet. Ah, Rosie-Poo, and Rosie-Poo 2, and…the other one, and the one after that…it’s still such a fresh wound. When will it heal? You’re a Cancer, too, Jeanne. Just think about what that loss does to a fellow crab.) 

Nope. No cats here except my memories of happy days with Misty and Schatzie and my Unfocused husband’s reminiscences of Dammit, Sesame, and others. We tell the children about them, you know. Our poor, deprived children who will NEVER KNOW the joys of being awakened at some godforsaken hour by a little paw, claws just barely extended, tapping at your cheek until you are forced out of your warm and cozy bed to open up a disgusting-smelling can of Super Supper. The children hang on our EVERY WORD as we tell stories like “The Day Misty Climbed on to the Roof “or “How Sesame Would Come and Go through the Window” or “The Miracle of Schatzie’s Fifteen-Foot Plummet to Earth When She Was Pregnant But her Kittens Were Still OK Anyway.” 

Of course, we’re not totally unfeeling parents. Because we understand the need for fuzzy friends we ensured that last Christmas saw the arrival of Towels the Robot Cat and Cuddles the Robot Puppy. Honored members of the household, Towels and Cuddles are. They’ve traveled 4,000 miles this summer alone, backseat companions to our otherwise lonely, friendless children on family drives to and from the beach. And when they haven’t run out of batteries and they’re actually switched to “ON” instead of just “TRY ME” mode, their movements and sounds are nearly lifelike. Nearly. But these children must take what they can get, right, Jeanne?

Do you know how my children react when they happen upon a cat in their travels? My kids are not wild, screaming cat chasers, oh, no, my friend. They all but enter into mystical communion with them. Unfocused Girl has even been dubbed “The Cat Whisperer” due to her uncanny ability to connect with any cat she encounters. She loves cats so much she intends to become (among other things like adventurer and author) a cat psychologist. She read about studies about how animals think in this article from National Geographic magazine when she was 6 (wait, correction: she had just turned 7) and knew then and there: this was the career for her!

Here’s a picture of my cat, indeed. A low blow, my friend; a low blow. But I’ll try not to think about it. I’ll try to concentrate on other things as I log my hours of back-to-school driving. I won’t sit behind the wheel, fantasizing about returning home to a snuggly furball. No, Jeanne, I’ll try to be more productive, and think of new, lovely blog posts with which I can amuse you SO YOU NEVER ATTACK MY SOFT UNDERBELLY AGAIN. 

A picture of my cat. Pah!



  1. Jeanne said,

    No, no it wasn’t decent. But it did get a response–and I’m only a little contrite about that (because of your sleep deprivation).

    It must be hard, living without cats. And crabs. We also have a rabbit. And parakeets. And now a guinea pig funeral. There used to be fish. Why do we have so many pets? Because my children spent their entire elementary school years begging for … a dog!

  2. harri3tspy said,

    Well, whatever the excuse, it’s nice to see you back in the blogosphere.

  3. The Lass said,

    What Harriet said.

  4. Andrew said,

    So wait, where are the pictures of the cats?

  5. harri3tspy said,

    You have been tagged:

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