As part of our recently unveiled "Oh, shit, the baby's coming imminently and we're never going to have time to clean/organize for years and years" campaign, we've been going through boxes that have accumulated since we moved or, indeed, were never cleaned out in the first place. Chief among those are boxes containing nothing but unfiled paper--old bills, cards, and other detritus of the so-called paperless age. (I think sometimes that I am madder about the complete lack of fulfillment of the paperless age than I am about the no flying cars thing. Toss-up.)
Mostly, this has involved a lot of separating the stuff that can be thrown away from the stuff that must be kept and from the stuff that must not be thrown away but shredded. Really fun. Every so often, though, we come across something that we have been holding onto that makes the process momentarily enjoyable. We recently found a note from our cats (ghost-written by Dan and Audrey, we suspect) in that category.
We used to have two cats in Prague, and friends like Dan and Audrey used to help us take care of them when we would go out of town. This was one of the cats:
This was Bean. What can I say about Bean that this photo doesn't illustrate? He was, to put it simply, crazy. As it turned out, he had a real medical problem that caused him to be crazy, but that didn't really make him any less weird.
Our other cat was, and is, Sotek. She came back with us from Prague, and she has continued to be the world's most agreeable cat. She's shy but friendly and demands very little (except in the way of preventative dental care). We got her first in Prague and thought that all cats would be like her. We were so wrong.
We got Bean from an American and his Czech girlfriend who lived in rural Czech Republic. We took the train out to get him and met the American at the station. We learned that the two of them had adopted a stray and had been feeding her, only to discover one morning that she was not so much a fluffy kitty as a very pregnant momma cat. Along the way he disclosed to us that the two of them were vegans and so the cat and kittens had become vegan as well. Somehow, we surmised that the felines probably didn't have a choice on that score, what with their built-to-rip-flesh teeth and all. Still, we met the kittens, decided that Bean should come home with us, and home we went.
He was far friendlier than Sotek--who was not at all pleased to see him--and wanted to be with us pretty much 24 hours a day. Including in bed. Under the covers. And he would eat anything that wasn't nailed down. At the time, we thought he was probably malnourished from the whole vegan cat lifestyle.
It was impossible to cook with Bean in the kitchen. Turn your back for a second and he would have started to devour the onions you'd just chopped or--in the case of our cleaning lady--the bread roll you left out on the counter for your lunch. Leave the kitchen and you could be sure to smell burning whiskers or a flank afire because he liked to curl up next to the open flame on the gas stove. One time he ate most of the fake fur off a Russian guest's coat that was lying in our bedroom. That was hard to explain.
Did I mention that he drooled like a St. Bernard?
When we got home from one trip, the cats had left us a note to tell us about their time with Dan and Audrey. Here's Sotek's:
(Just in case it's not clear on your screen, here's the text:
Dear Mom & Dad,
Dan & Audrey were great. They came by, reminded me to eat, and gave me some good lovin'. Hope you had a good trip.
Love,
Sotek)
And here's Bean's:
Mom Dad---
I MADE BIG MESS, ATE LOTS, DROOLED, AND WALKED ON KITCHEN COUNTER ALL DAY
LOVE,
BEAN
