My obligatory "haul shot" from SPX.
Photo by Dylan Williams.Since I've been back in town I've spoken to Bernadette and Gretchen, the lovely women behind Baker's Mark Literary Agency, and realizing that they can't sell my book until it's close to done has lit a fire under my ass like you can't believe. I've been bustin' out pages left and right. Boom! Pow! Also, if you've been wondering why my website hasn't been updated, my old computer died and I lost the site password. Hopefully this will be remedied soon.
So here's a good tale. About a month ago we started getting visits from a gray and white cat. I figured he lived on the block; he had a collar and was obviously someone's pet. He seemed fed and was the friendliest little guy; I'd find him asleep in the sun on one of the backyard chairs and he'd hop off and come over to my lap without being asked. He started showing up more and more often, until I realized he was just living in our backyard, eating the food my neighbor leaves out for his outdoor cats. He was so goofy and retarded, climbing on my shoulders and drooling, so I named him Beans. But later I noticed his dignified walk and style, so he became Mr. Lester Beans (this name evolved in the course of only a few days).
He was breaking my heart, so I took the leap and made a vet appointment, planning to clear up any flea or earmite problems before inviting him into the house. My FOUR other cats were not amused by this newcomer, so my plan was to keep him inside long enough to rehome him amongst my friends or, failing that, Craigslist. I brought him to the vet strapped to my bike, and lo and behold, he had a microchip implanted in his back. I pedaled him home, called the chip company, called the vet's office they directed me to, then called the owner. Turns out Beans, aka "Dapper Dan," was missing for over a month and his mom thought he was gone forever. My guess is that he just took a long walk one day and forgot how to get back. (Goofy, as I said.). It felt great to send him home, but I've already looked out the bathroom window twice this afternoon at his chair, checking on him.
So here's a good tale. About a month ago we started getting visits from a gray and white cat. I figured he lived on the block; he had a collar and was obviously someone's pet. He seemed fed and was the friendliest little guy; I'd find him asleep in the sun on one of the backyard chairs and he'd hop off and come over to my lap without being asked. He started showing up more and more often, until I realized he was just living in our backyard, eating the food my neighbor leaves out for his outdoor cats. He was so goofy and retarded, climbing on my shoulders and drooling, so I named him Beans. But later I noticed his dignified walk and style, so he became Mr. Lester Beans (this name evolved in the course of only a few days).
He was breaking my heart, so I took the leap and made a vet appointment, planning to clear up any flea or earmite problems before inviting him into the house. My FOUR other cats were not amused by this newcomer, so my plan was to keep him inside long enough to rehome him amongst my friends or, failing that, Craigslist. I brought him to the vet strapped to my bike, and lo and behold, he had a microchip implanted in his back. I pedaled him home, called the chip company, called the vet's office they directed me to, then called the owner. Turns out Beans, aka "Dapper Dan," was missing for over a month and his mom thought he was gone forever. My guess is that he just took a long walk one day and forgot how to get back. (Goofy, as I said.). It felt great to send him home, but I've already looked out the bathroom window twice this afternoon at his chair, checking on him.
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