Archive for the ‘Desperado’ Category

It is quite unusual for the caretaker to be at home in the middle of the week, but she is a bit under the weather today and did not go to work. Before our gentle readers become overly concerned, we will hasten to say that she is well enough to provide the cats their basic needs. Nonetheless, they have become aware of her advanced age and general frailty, and therefore have decided that if conditions deteriorate they will resort to Plan B. Unfortunately, they are keeping mum about the contents of said plan. The caretaker suspects it involves gnawing off her bad arm and hoping that when she has been absent from Facebook long enough someone will notice and come and see about her, but she doesn’t like to think of such things. So let us turn our thoughts to a happier topic: mayhem.

From the comfort of the caretaker’s easy chair in the living room, she has been treated to a morning of hijinx and a fair amount of low-jinx as well. While Bear has made every attempt to spend her time in peace and harmony, Buddy has obviously vowed to ensure that disorder reigns in the universe. The source of his current displeasure is Dapper Desperado, the strikingly handsome black-and-white cow cat who roams the palace lawn. As many windows as there are in Stratford Palace, Buddy always wishes for one window more, as he leads his puffy tail from room to room trying to find the perfect spot from which to perfectly hate the dappled Desperado.

One might, of course, go into deep philosophical musings regarding the fact that Buddy hates this creature who looks so very much like himself. Does that mean that what he really hates is himself? Perhaps he hates his mother. Or his father. Or his great-uncle Felix. Or is it all things black and white? Newspapers? Police cars? Zebras? Indeed, philosophy is much more interesting than Buddy ever dreamed possible.

But self loathing is the furthest thing from our dear king’s psyche. No, he merely and simply and finely and deeply hates Desperado because he is free to roam. He is everything that Buddy thinks he would like to be.

At least until dinner is plated up and served at Buddy’s feet. You don’t get that when you’re free. That’s right, Desperado. Tear up the lawns and scale the fences. Cross the streets until fun commences. You are not free to eat breakfast at three. You are not loved. You are not really free.

(With many apologies to Glenn Frey and Don Henley. Mostly Don. You are Buddy’s favorite singer.)


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