My Catless Mother

My mom wants a C-A-T. My dad says N-O. This is a dilemma because when Markovitch girls want something, we really want it and we can’t stop thinking about it and can’t sleep because we are thinking about it and when we can sleep we are dreaming about it and then when we wake up we are really sad because we don’t have it but we dreamed we did. And it all happens really fast like that and we really can’t breathe until we have it. And so we get it. And usually it’s just a pair of jeans or Victoria’s Secret boots or a laptop that we can’t stop thinking about, but sometimes it is a C-A-T that we really can't have.

My mom doesn’t want any old C-A-T, she wants a specific C-A-T that is conveniently located at the animal rescue center near her home. He is big and gray and two or three years old.

Sometimes this C-A-T makes special trips to the pet store with high hopes of being adopted, but it never happens. And this C-A-T, the poor thing, all he can think about is getting adopted, and he can’t stop thinking about it and can’t sleep because he is thinking about it and when he can sleep he is dreaming about it and then when he wakes up he is really sad because he is still sitting in his cage. Alone. And hungry. And cold. So, my mom really needs this C-A-T so she can show him what a nice home is like. He would have lots of friends at home, like two D-O-G-S and a B-I-R-D and a mom and a dad, too. He would also have a Tessa and a Rex that would write him letters and send him snacks in the mail.

I think that if this C-A-T showed up at my mom’s doorstep, she would be the happiest little lady in the world. I will have Rex contact him so they can work out an escape route.