It’s been a long time since I posted last. For those that care, I’m sorry. For those that don’t, I’ll cover my bases and still say I’m sorry. But, there is good reason for why I haven’t been posting. It’s this grueling schedule of being a stay-at-home boyfriend. Clean house, look for work, P90X, make dinner. See? Barely a spare minute for writing. I’ll thank you ahead of time for understanding, and shutting up about it if you don’t.
As I wrote about a while back, Liz and I were gallivanting off to the Czech Republic. On the last day at out hostel, I finished my nerve-wracking group shower, luckily in solo fashion. I walked back towards Liz and she looked as lovely and calm as ever. She looked at me placidly and said that Silvia, our cat-sitter, had lost Julia, our cat.
Well darn it all to heck! But, it was bound to happen sooner or later. We’ll get a new one.
Huh? Who lost what? Just to clarify, Liz may or may not be a robot. She’s just a little too analytical, too brusque at times, she beeps constantly, and she delivers the news that our cat is lost with the calmness of a Hindu cow. Thankfully the facade broke and like a well-programmed robot, she immediately set off to fix the problem rather than get hung up on those pesky emotions.
Apparently Silvia had some friends over and one of them opened the back door. Julia, being brilliant, jumped down to meet the other MENSA cats in the garden below. So, the first half of our day in the Czech Republic was spend on the awful Czech keyboards of a shitty Czech hostel, triaging the damage done by an irresponsible cat-sitter and a stupid cat. After 30 minutes furiously typing at a computer, I stepped back to admire my work:
Liz, being fluent in binary, was much more efficient. Following her lead, we registered Julia with a bunch of lost pet organizations and learned that most people writing about how to find lost pets simply shouldn’t. Maybe the writers telling me how smart cats are and praising their resourcefulness haven’t seen Julia stalk dust balls, eat bugs, and jump out windows in Amsterdam. I’ll hang on to my own opinions for at least a little longer.
Memory is far from objective, and all I could remember were the cute things Julia did, making the sadness worse. Don’t get me wrong, Julia can be an asshole. To be fair, so can I. But Julia was my asshole. That was gross and anatomically/onomastically confusing. Not erasing it. Like a mentally healthy individual, I settled into a comfortable depression about our lost cat, with a dose of irrational anger and over-dramatic extrapolation for good measure. Thankfully this does not compute with Robo-Liz and I was given a strong dose of logic. She really is a lovable bunch of circuits. Having done what we could and being optimistic about Julia’s swift return, we set off to have fun on our last day in Prague by visiting Kafka’s grave.