Grass Naps

Sleeping under the tree hoping to catch a bird
Did you know I have a cat? Her name is Mazatlan, but we call her Maza for short. I know I never talk about her because I am not some crazy cat lady with no life, so now I will post just once about my cat and never again. She is twelve but I like to pretend she is two because if she is twelve she will die soon and I will have no one to speak bad french to

 




No more grass naps for Maza. I let her go outside because trying to keep a cat inside is annoying and since she was tossed out on the street by her former owner when she was two years old, she always has her eye on the door and never goes too far.

She has only disappeared once, a few minutes before I had to catch the RER train to take my final test for Sorbonne. The one that I was 100% convinced I was going to fail and be humiliated in front of my fellow students because they post the results on the school bulletin board, my new French family who probably already thought David had made a BIG mistake, my family, my frienemies, my haters…. so it was not the most convenient time to have my safety blanket, my doudou, disappear.

I took my four hour test with that naughty bitch on my mind and passed anyway. Take that snotty working on their masters degree kids ten years younger than my uneducated ass. They all passed too, but they didn’t have serious pressing issues on their mind like their goddamn missing cat, so I was unimpressed.

I threw out all ten pounds of the paperwork from my semester at Sorbonne. I took a minute to make sure there was nothing important in there from immigration (there was) and I noticed I used to be able to write quite well in French. But since I haven’t been writing to ask people “Is it that you are going to the disco tonight?” on a daily basis I have forgotten a lot of it.

I always tell David to get his own cat but I hope he doesn’t because cats are a pain in the ass and expensive and litterboxes are gross and his cat would probably be better than mine and not a neurotic cat that pats your arm to get you to pet her and then scratches you.

But if you do get the stupid thought in your head that a cat is a good idea, get a two year old one. They won’t get smooched by a car and because they have already been abused they will still love you even when you fly them to France in the belly of a plane like a suitcase. And they will be so crazy that after the novelty of owning a warm fur coat wears off, they will still be entertaining.

Maza already got her French passport

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4 Responses to “Grass Naps”

  1. Evolutionary Revolutionary Says:

    I just have to tell you that if I still lived in Paris we would most definitely be friends. This is all true.

  2. eMerly Says:

    Yay. My first comment from someone I don't know in real life. I am a huge success!I wish you still did live in Paris because cool girls are hard to find.

  3. Caryl Says:

    That's because I live in Sacramento… LOL

  4. eMerly Says:

    you will just have to retire in France. 🙂

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