In Which: Plans are Made

Ho-hum. It's merely that the Librarian plans to go hiking in the Beartooth Mountains tomorrow. Just a baby hike, since she hasn't done anything but walk up in Swords Park for ages.


Hmmm, well she did hike up to Avalanche Lake.


I suppose that counts.

However, tomorrow she will be going somewhere completely new. How trepidatious of her. Trepidatious. I am not sure that is a word. If it is a word, it seems likely to have been made up by Anne of Green Gables. I would look it up in the dictionary but I am busy licking a paw.

Well. So I tell her, she had better be careful of those bears. I think she will be all right if she follows my plan: bring tuna sandwiches for lunch. If a bear appears, throw a tuna sandwich at it. Any bear would prefer that to a human smelly with bug repellent. I know I would.

In Which: the Librarian is Older. A Lot Older.

The last time the Librarian saw Bob Dylan in concert, it was 1976.


I looked up the date of the Rolling Thunder Revue, because she thought it was in 1975. That would have made it 35 years ago. Due to my attention to details, she has staved off one year. Thirty-four years ago, she was almost someone else. She didn't even know about Me.

Bob Dylan looked a lot better different then too.

Don't be misled by the date on that poster. The Revue lasted into May 1976, when the Librarian saw a lackluster concert that was drowned by rain (but no thunder - just a downpour) in Fort Collins, CO.

This time, the concert is a mere 1/2 block away. If she gets bored, disgusted or rained on, she can just walk home. I shudder to think how many cans of Fancy Feast she could have bought instead of the ticket, but she says it's the Last Time she'll ever get to see Bob Dylan, not to mention John Mellencamp whose Little Pink Houses album used to reside in her yellow Sony Walkman (remember those?) when she walked up to the "M" on Mount Sentinel in Missoula. I was around for that. I looked like this (since everyone else is getting a "younger" picture):

Ahhh, Me and Luigi. I am the Fatty Kitty, he is the stripey one. I believe I'm starting to understand the nostalgia the Librarian has been experiencing.

However, I must briskly shake that off. Trucks have been arriving,

roadies set up a big tent in the parking lot,


a stage in the outfield (center - right),

and a regiment of blue porta-potties stands alertly at strategic points.

I hope the Librarian enjoys herself. She will if she remembers her earplugs. Loud music gives her a headache.

In Which: Fatty Kitty consorts with dogs.

I am surprised at myself. I am actually participating in a chatty dog blog called Chet the Dog.


Of course, this is the Librarian's fault as per usual. She would read those mysteries and laugh out loud and mutter to herself, i.e.: "Oh no! Don't do that!" or "Get'em Chet! Atta boy!" Harumph. About a dog. She never did that when she read those Cat mysteries...she did not appear to be entertained. After all, I must admit:

Cats do not run all over the desert;

Cats cannot leap at the perpetrators' throats (and threaten to tear them out, even. Egad.)

Cats can't smell as much - oops, I mean as well - as dogs.

Alas.

But if I can be allowed to make a case for Cats:

A Cat could distract the perpetrator, by running between his/her legs, scratching, or a loud yowl at the right time:

A Cat could pee on something, rendering it unusable (or at least thoroughly disgusting). This would be helpful in disarming weaponry, for instance:

A Cat can eat grass and puke next to a pertinent clue....

Oh Holy (Furry) Balls. I cannot believe I am even discussing this.

The odd part is...I don't mind the dogs (except they talk too much). I might even grow fond of a dog who thinks he is Henry the VIII and thus wears a ruff.

When I think about being a Cat detective, I believe I would be more of the Sam Spade type: moody, given to terse statements, a real loner. Hmmmm. I shall direct the Librarian to find a Kitty Fedora and practice meowing out of the corner of my mouth.

Mrrrrrrrrrrritttsh!

Er, no. Mweowww. Better.

Mwwwwwwow. Mwwwwow. Well, this is exhausting. But there - it's time for my nap anyway.

In Which: the librarian approaches the Big L

I have been watching over the librarian.  She has 16 days left until she becomes the Librarian.  It's been a Long hauL, as she wouLd put it.  And in ceLebration, I have fLoated down (figurativeLy, not LiteraLLy) to post in her honor.

I'm sure it's been difficuLt for her to continue without me.  I was the bane and joy of her existence, and I am quick to add that joy overcame bane by a Large margin.  Oh, certainLy, some wouLd mention the cessation of hairbaLLs, but that is a minor inconvenience compared to the Loss of my effervescent companionship.  It couLd not be otherwise, for I am Fatty Kitty.  I am aLmost tempted to grin, figurativeLy of course, since I no Longer have a body.

I suppose you want to know what I am, and in your feebLe human mind, I am a ghost or an angeL (I am tempted to grin again).  Oh no, I am so much more than that now.  I wiLL forego expLaining, since it is impossibLe for any human to understand.  Why eLse the chiLdish cLinging to superstition and ego?

But, as usuaL, I digress.  It's just that I enjoy being superior so much that I tend to dweLL on it.  Again, the grin.  So now, from my exaLted position (no, not in the sky, fooLs, in the hierarchy of being, of course), I bestow congratuLations on the soon-to-be Librarian, and Leave her with these words of wisdom: 

Stop noodLing about and do your homework! 

If you do, I promise I won't mess about with these capital Ls any Longer.  They are annoying, aren't they?  Ho ho!  Now I know why that Cheshire Cat was so toothy...grinning as the worLd trudges by is a worthy occupation.  Now, since there are stiLL naps where I am (and why shouLd there not be?), I wiLL partake ...........shnoooorrrngh.

signed, the Fatty Kitty