Black Suits, Recycling, Cat Fight.
One dream took place in an unfamiliar city. Maybe Tokyo, but it could have been anywhere. I was Aomame, the protagonist of the book I've been reading, 1Q84. Everywhere I went men in black suits also went. It wasn't particularly scary, just frustrating.
The other one took place in Clackamas, where Jim and I were supposed to go bar hopping with my mom and her friend from Texas that drunk dials us in the evening. But first, he and I needed to take the recycling back so we'd have enough money. The recycling center was at the back of a large building in a field. The machines were large, blank, stainless steel. They took all types of recycling all at once. We shove our cans and bottles in, but they wouldn't work. A pudgy kid came by on his bike and showed us how to turn them on - there was a button we hadn't noticed before. As jim continues to fill the machines, I notice that one bag is mixed with garbage and leave to find a trash can. I find one, surrounded by teenagers who think it's hilarious that I drink Shasta. (I don't drink Shasta, but Shasta is what I have left when the garbage is removed.) I make my way back to the recycling center, but Jim is gone. I go back to the Chinese resaurant, but he's not there, either. Lynette, the drunk dialer, is pissed that we're taking so long. "We neeeeed ta get day-own to the baaar," she says with a heavy Texas twang.
....
Our cat, Not the Buddy, came home yesterday afternoon covered in blood and limping. The first thing he did was eat, then he drank some water. He chose the guest bedroom for a bit of a nap. We did as much cleanup as he would allow, trying to find his wounds under all the hair. The only one we could find was a puncture in the ear flap. We cut away his belly hair, expecting to find something since there was so much blood there. Nothing. We let him rest, and made an appointment with the veterinarian.
Shortly after, Neighbor Jim called to say he was at the emergency vet with his cat, Tiger. Tiger came home around noon, bloody. He had a few puncture wounds to the neck and a large scratch on his chest. "Are all of your cats okay?" he asked. I told him about NTB. He says he'll stop by after they get home.
NTB did well at the vet. In addition to the ear wound, he found a few scratches and a large bald patch. One foreleg was swollen, but NTB demonstrated that he had no trouble using it as he jumped up and down from the counter to the floor and back. Tehy gave him an antibiotic sot and sent us on our way. Most of the blood came from his ear, the rest was osmebody else's.
We're not sure what happened. NTB and Tiger have been friends since Tiger showed up in our neighborhood last year. He and NTB would pal around, like NTB was showing him all the special cat hiding places, which neighbors would give treats or catnip. That sort of thing. The only reason I didn't adopt him was because Newton had strong objections. She's forgotten what it's like to be the new cat, such a princess. It's possible there was a third party involved, but we'll never be sure. Somewhere there's a crime scene with NTB's missing collar and patches of fur.
The other one took place in Clackamas, where Jim and I were supposed to go bar hopping with my mom and her friend from Texas that drunk dials us in the evening. But first, he and I needed to take the recycling back so we'd have enough money. The recycling center was at the back of a large building in a field. The machines were large, blank, stainless steel. They took all types of recycling all at once. We shove our cans and bottles in, but they wouldn't work. A pudgy kid came by on his bike and showed us how to turn them on - there was a button we hadn't noticed before. As jim continues to fill the machines, I notice that one bag is mixed with garbage and leave to find a trash can. I find one, surrounded by teenagers who think it's hilarious that I drink Shasta. (I don't drink Shasta, but Shasta is what I have left when the garbage is removed.) I make my way back to the recycling center, but Jim is gone. I go back to the Chinese resaurant, but he's not there, either. Lynette, the drunk dialer, is pissed that we're taking so long. "We neeeeed ta get day-own to the baaar," she says with a heavy Texas twang.
....
Our cat, Not the Buddy, came home yesterday afternoon covered in blood and limping. The first thing he did was eat, then he drank some water. He chose the guest bedroom for a bit of a nap. We did as much cleanup as he would allow, trying to find his wounds under all the hair. The only one we could find was a puncture in the ear flap. We cut away his belly hair, expecting to find something since there was so much blood there. Nothing. We let him rest, and made an appointment with the veterinarian.
Shortly after, Neighbor Jim called to say he was at the emergency vet with his cat, Tiger. Tiger came home around noon, bloody. He had a few puncture wounds to the neck and a large scratch on his chest. "Are all of your cats okay?" he asked. I told him about NTB. He says he'll stop by after they get home.
NTB did well at the vet. In addition to the ear wound, he found a few scratches and a large bald patch. One foreleg was swollen, but NTB demonstrated that he had no trouble using it as he jumped up and down from the counter to the floor and back. Tehy gave him an antibiotic sot and sent us on our way. Most of the blood came from his ear, the rest was osmebody else's.
We're not sure what happened. NTB and Tiger have been friends since Tiger showed up in our neighborhood last year. He and NTB would pal around, like NTB was showing him all the special cat hiding places, which neighbors would give treats or catnip. That sort of thing. The only reason I didn't adopt him was because Newton had strong objections. She's forgotten what it's like to be the new cat, such a princess. It's possible there was a third party involved, but we'll never be sure. Somewhere there's a crime scene with NTB's missing collar and patches of fur.