Well, I hope everyone in my life is happy. I officially give up on April Fool's Day. You all GO AROUND, CALLING each other, so thanks. I'm done. I am not even going to try anymore. When I go to my grave, you can be proud of yourselves. "Yay, I ruined the one thing June really loved doing." Congratulations.
In other news, today would have been Roger's birthday. I think he would have been three today. I've had many cats in my life, but Roger was special.
Oh, how he abhorred those ragamuffin children. Look at his spready feets. Also, this was back during the Impressionist era, apparently.
In case you were not here for Roger, I got him the day after my evil cat Francis died, because I was out of cats. I got Roger off Craigslist, a lot like how I got Ned. I like to tell people I bought Ned on eBay, although technically I got Ned for free.
My point is, Roger was a teensy kitten when I got him, and on the first day I had to go back to work, I put him in the spare bedroom with water, his toys, a blanket. When I got home at noon, there he was, snuggled between Talu and Edsel on the couch. Oh haiiii! He'd totally escaped to be near the action. (He's here with Anderson Cooper, who Marvin still owns.)
He was smart and unafraid, Roger was. Eventually he just went on walks with the dogs and me, running into the yards ahead of us and looking back to see why we weren't going as fast as him. He'd go the whole walk with us.
And you know, the whole time I was admiring his big tough self (and he DID get big. He was only 8 months old when he died and already weighed 12 pounds. The vet kept saying, "Are you SURE you know how old he is?" and I kept telling her remember when I brought him in as a teensy thing FOUR MONTHS AGO?), I somehow knew I wouldn't have him long. I always felt wistful when I was smiling at Roger.
And in December of the same year I got him, Roger got hit by a car. It's my fault, of course. He'd taught himself how to open the back door, and I never got any kind of huge lock to keep him in.
He lived fast, died young, and left a lot of blurry pictures. I miss you, Roger. I miss you all the time.
Look who grew up and got attitude. God, my hair was an awful color back then.
In other news that makes me feel less miserable, Ned and I watched Harold and Maude last night, which of course I've seen before, but it's one of those movies that the more you watch it, the better it is.
"I hope when I'm 80 I'll be weird like Maude," I said last night.
"You will," Ned assured me.
It's really warm here suddenly, and before I got up with Ned last night, my pal Marty Martin came over and we had refreshments on my deck, which doesn't still have dead leaves on it from fall or anything. While we were having ourselves a time, Peg, my neighbor, leaned across the fence.
"June, do you still have my spreader?"
...?
Turns out Peg brought a plate, which I promptly dropped and broke, a little bowl and a cheese spreader to my New Year's party, and of course I'd paid no attention to the fact she'd left it there. I am an excellent neighbor. I went inside and found the...spreader, and I have no idea why I can't say that without being in 7th grade.
Then I realized the delicious pistachios Marty and I were enjoying were, you know, in Peg's bowl. So I dumped out the nuts on the table. "Here, Peg."
Have I mentioned I am a delightful neighbor? The kind everyone wants to have?
Okay, I must go. It's going to be 80 today, a thing Ned/Willard Scott announced to me the moment I woke up, because he knows it annoys me that he's forever telling me the weather when I have a perfectly good app.
Dude, you so need that app.
My point is, I have no need to have actual conversation about the weather when I can stare blankly into my phone. Come on, now.
I have to go. I have to look at my phone.
Distractedly, June
