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kitty_magic
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tender square
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part of getting a fiancé visa in the states requires that you can’t work or leave the country until you’ve resided there for six months. when i moved here in november of 2010, i had a lot of time on my hands with nothing to do. i’d putter around the apartment in my satin nightgown like a ghost, trying to fill the hours until brandon came home from work, trying not to be needy, trying not to be lonely. we didn’t have much money because brandon worked for a small non-profit. i didn’t have any friends yet; i only knew our downstairs landlord, bill. bill was eccentric but i liked him. he was in his 70s and had this beautiful shock of silver hair that rose up in curls above his head. his eyes were cobalt, which made for a stunning contrast with his olive skin. he often wore a button-down shirt in a similar shade that made them pop even more—they were soul eyes. he was a gardener; the whole front yard was devoted to his vegetables. he’d tend to them throughout the day in his bare feet—he never wore shoes, no matter how cold or wet it was. i wanted him to teach me how to grow things, but i never had the patience to learn. instead, we’d talk about the subtle body and astral planes, concepts i’d never heard of before, and he’d lend me books from his collection to read. bill had this beautiful cat named peaches. she was a friendly orange tabby whom he let roam indoors and outside. sometimes, i would hear her meowing at his door to be let in from our shared foyer, but he’d be busy and not hear her. even though i was allergic, i started inviting her in our apartment for company, especially as the weather got colder. i’d place a tea towel down on the couch so she could lay down without shedding hair everywhere, hair that would make my chest close up later if i wasn’t careful. she’d curl up next to me and let me rub her belly as i watched reruns of “beverly hills 90210” on tv. she’d hang with me for about an hour and then descend the stairs and go back to bill’s. after i’d been living in the states for about a couple years, bill lost peaches. she didn’t wear a collar, so he figured someone in the neighborhood must’ve taken her in thinking she didn’t have a home. he was remarkably cool about it; he loved that cat but knew she was being well cared for wherever she was. she never came back to our house in all the remaining time i stayed there. the neighborhood michael and i live in is about two and a half miles south from that first apartment with brandon. there’s a series of vintage townhome condos near us on curving streets that michael and i walk from time to time. on jeanne and fernwood, i started crossing paths with an orange tabby that would come running up to me whenever she saw me. i could always tell she was close by from the bell on her collar, which rang out as she moved. she’d stop at my feet and wait for me to pet her belly, and follow me for a few yards after we’d continue walking on. i called these meetings “kitty magic”—she had a way of showing up when i was feeling down. i’m convinced she’s peaches.
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210920
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raze
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there's something about orange tabbies. my dad bought a house on moy avenue when i was seven or eight. he maxed out two credit cards to come up with the down payment. the house needed work, but it was one of those great older places full of character. there were huge rooms with high ceilings and hardwood floors. there was an old-fashioned bathtub and a front porch that groaned beneath your feet in a way that made you want to sit down and watch the day disappear. there were two outdoor cats in the neighbourhood. we didn't know who they belonged to. one was a black cat. i think she was a girl. i named her blackie. the other cat was an orange tabby. i named him rusty. i was a creative kid when it came to naming things. blackie would scratch and bite, but rusty was gentle. he looked wise. like he knew things he couldn't talk about. he would show up at odd moments. once, he climbed up on the hood of our car when we were about to leave. he wouldn't get off. he sat there for a good five minutes. then he jumped down and walked away, as if to say, "well, i did my job today." i've always wondered if he did that to keep us at the house long enough to avoid a car accident. we didn't see him for a good year or more after that. i was visiting with my dad on my birthday. we were eating cake when we heard what sounded like scratching at the front door. we stepped out on the porch. there was rusty, giving me one of the best birthday presents i ever got just by showing up.
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tender_square
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i saw the chunky tabby that isn’t peaches but acts like peaches on my walk and she ran up to me from ten meters away. i took off my mitten, leaving my glove on, to give her some belly rubs. i knew better than to offer my bare hand. the last time i saw her, a few months back, she clawed and bit me something fierce. i was about to step away from her when i went in for one final belly rub because i couldn’t resist her cuteness and that’s when she got miffed and made a snack of my wrist. i don’t know if in my excitement that my touch was too aggressive or what, but she wasn’t having any of it. she clawed at my hand and one of her nails broke the skin on my grey leather glove. i was pissed. “you’re an asshole. that’s the last time i ever pet you.” forget kitty magic. kitty terror is more like it.
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220121
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