This sign hangs in my hallway.  It’s a piece of ceramic I bought in Montepulciano, Italy in 2009.  For those of you who can’t figure it out, it says in Italian, “Beware of the Cats”….  I think it’s funny for multiple reasons.  1.  The cats in the image are smiling and don’t look remotely like anything you’d need to beware of.  2. My cats are orange.  The cats above are too.  3.  If you know my cats (and I know some of the people reading this do.. and some don’t), you would know that my cats are true pussies in all senses of the word.  I mean, they are really not your everyday cats.  They rarely scratch. They rarely act out with a vengeance. They’re pretty much just love, love, love. I have to warn people who bring their children to visit them that they need to teach their young ones that cats are actually a species that can, when provoked, hurt you.  Because if you meet Stevie, and that’s the first cat you’ve ever interacted with, you would think that cats are just big soft teddy bears that don’t mind being hung upside down — or flipped around — or jumped on.  He really has a high tolerance for human interaction of all sorts.  

There are two scenarios in their life, when I believe my cats deserve the “Beware of” warning.  1.  When they have to interact with a Vet all hell breaks loose.  Stevie panics and can’t breathe.  Macy takes all her stress out on him. They fight for days after they’ve seen the Vet.  It’s an awful time. Hissing that never ever exists otherwise, comes out after the Vet.  2.  The only other time outside of Vet interactions that my cats have been beyond difficult, is the weekend my brain exploded.  

As we all know by now, from the time I got the worst headache of my life on Friday night, to the time that my friends stormed my apartment on Saturday afternoon, no one will ever know what actually happened in my apartment.  Except my cats Macy and Stevie.  They absolutely know what happened, but they can’t verbalize it to us since they don’t speak Human.  They speak Cat.  If anyone knows how to speak Cat, let me know so we can get a download on what the fuck I did from Friday night to Saturday afternoon in my hot apartment with the Ambien and the vacuum cleaner.  I’m sure it was very distressing to them. Cats are so good at sensing stuff. I’m sure they know I was fucked and on my way to dying.  I’m positive.  I mean, even if I feel like crying and haven’t yet, Macy knows and comes over to kiss my cheek.  If she knows that shit, she knew my brain had exploded and I was on my way to chaos.  Plus, I’m not sure if I fed them or not.  That’s probably what stressed them out the most.

Okay. So we know what was happening with me at this point. I’m in the shitty first hospital being misdiagnosed by Dr. Goldshit– and the cats are home and being fed by Meggin’s husband Jay.  I’m sure this was all a little disconcerting to them.  Then suddenly, my two parents showed up to sleep in their apartment without me–  in their bed — and I’m sure it freaked the shit out of them.  Needless to say, the first night with my parents did not go well.  And who came in to save the day?

Dorota Anna Boros.  

Dorota (or Dora for short) has been in my life since 2007.  I refuse to call her simply my housekeeper, because she is more than that. She is part of my Alphabet Soup family.  She and Stevie have a special connection (see above photo)…  I think once Cris called her and told her he was coming to get my keys, she seized the day and realized she could potentially steal Stevie from me and have him for her own. I was dying of course.  NO, Dora, I am just kidding.  I know the reality is that you stepped in and offered to help alleviate the stress in my parents’ situation by offering to take the cats to your apartment. And I thank you for doing that.  It was admirable of you — but boy — if I had been conscious and not dying, I would have definitely told you all that was a terrible idea. My cats do NOT like to leave the apartment. They’re homebodies in the most extreme sense of the word.

So.  Here goes a conversation I had with Dora last night about her experience with all my brain shit.  Again — please forgive if some of this is paraphrased.  I’m not that amazing of a typist — especially while sitting on the balcony with wine and chatting.

—— Begin ——-

Me: Where were you working when Cris called you for my keys?

Dora.: On the Upper East Side – at work.

Me:  We don’t name drop, but you were at someone who is very famous’ apartment cleaning?

Dora: Yes.

Me: What were you thinking when Cris called?

Dora: I was surprised. I thought it was weird. Something was wrong, but I didn’t know what. He texted me that he was on the bus. He would be a few minutes. I was thinking about whether or not I should give him the key without your permission.

Me: Where did you meet him?  Did he get to see this famous person’s apartment?

Dora: No, I just met him in the front of the building. He was downstairs. As he left I asked him to call or text me when he knew how you were. Later he texted me and said everything was okay – he had found you. But later he told me what really happened. I don’t remember exactly.

Right after I found out, I wanted to take the cats. To me and you — they are our babies – to them they are just the cats. To make it easier for your parents, I decided I will take the cats to my house. That wasn’t the brightest idea. Cris, said yes, that would be great if you could take them. But it wasn’t.  It was a bad idea.

Me: Who did you meet when you came to get them?

Dora: I think your parents. My friend came with me. First we had to figure out how to fix the container. My greatest friend Stevie was no problem. He went in.  Macy scratched me – she didn’t want to go in. I was bleeding. She can scratch really hard.

 Me:  Did you take the litter box?

Dora:  I just took all the stuff. They were both crying all the way. Hopefully they not gonna be like this all the time. When I got to my apartment, I put them upstairs. I put the litter box into the bathtub. I figure they gonna look for that in the bathtub. They were quiet for a few minutes. Then I was just playing with them. Then Macy was attacking Stevie. She doesn’t like change. She was in the living room. Stevie was in the bedroom. I called my friend and asked her if it’s gonna be like this all the time. If I was in the living room, Stevie cried. If I was in the bedroom, Macy cried.

I can’t remember what day this was. I know your parents were here. The day exact, I don’t remember.

On that first day. I didn’t sleep. If something really happen to you, I’m going to be stuck my whole life with these cats. And I’m not going to sleep for years. Cris didn’t explain – I had no idea how serious it was for you. I knew it was serious. But not how serious. If something happen to you, I will be stuck with them, and then I will die too… Lack of sleep.

For two nights they were crying. Crying. Both nights crying. They can cry very loud. I didn’t want to bother my neighbors. I was sleeping on the floor between the living room and bedroom.   Macy was in the front. Stevie was in the back.. I think I got 1 hour, maybe 2 hours of sleep.

During the day they were pretty good. Macy was not really use to it. She was walking all over the place. I was watching TV. She was walking on the pillow. Then in one moment, I saw her in the position. And of course she did it (shit) all over my pillow. I didn’t want to move her. I don’t want to be nasty – but it wasn’t solid. I let her do her business. She just looked at me and left. I cleaned the pillow. And during the day, they were pretty good. When the night came, it started all over again. I texted Cris. My neighbors are going to kill me. After the second night, I’m not used to pets in the house. I have a leather couch, there was hair everywhere.   Hair everywhere. A whole living room of hair. After the second night, I’m really really sorry, there was just no chance. I am not a baby, but I told Cris that he had to come – he had to pick them up.   Cris rented a zip car, and of course I gave him my address and he parked. His phone was dying, but he took them. I went to sleep immediately after. And I felt so bad. I wanted the best for everybody – but Macy and Stevie were thinking the other way.   I love them. I was going to take care of them. Your parents were going to take care of you. But they had a different opinion of leaving their house. I didn’t feel good giving them back. I feel like I disappointed people; I was trying to figure out why they were crying.   When i texted Cris after they got home, he said thaat they were good and that they weren’t crying.

—–end—-

Okay.  How can I not love Dora (and Cris) for what they did for me and the cats?  How amazing is that shit?  That poor woman got so scratched up. She had cat shit on her pillow????  Wow.  I can’t believe she is still willing to come to my apartment after that.  I am truly grateful and give her an A+ for effort even though I really just think she wanted to steal Stevie.  So amazing.

No one told me about the cat story until Brian by accident spilled the beans after I got out of the hospital.  They all protected me from what they thought would be worrisome for me when I was in the ICU seemingly dying.  Luckily, me, Dora and the cats are all fine now.

In conclusion, Dora and I finished our conversation last night on the balcony — and at some point I will tell you some of her observations about my recovery (she pretty much witnessed the entire thing) and of course she met and knew Fucker…  But I’ll save that for another part of the story.  

The cats are now looking at me like it’s time to stop typing.  Time to pay a little attention to them since I am a cat lady after all.  Namaste.