 |
| JOE SENT ME. |
I went for a walk the other day and met a cat hanging out in a window. As I approached, he sleepily stretched and assessed me. A marking on his face made it look like he had a shiner. Thinking of a San Geraldo story from the past, I wondered if he was the bouncer at this particular “house.”
Innocence
In 1982, San Geraldo and I drove with our friend Susan from Boston to New York for the weekend. On the way back, we stopped at a McDonald’s on the Connecticut Turnpike. While in the parking lot sipping our chocolate shakes, I noticed a veterinary clinic on the other side of the fence. There were two entrances. One read “DOGS” and the other, “CATS.”
I facetiously said, “Ha. They don’t fool me. That’s just a cover for a cathouse.”
San Geraldo, the young and innocent, said, “Huh? Is that like a kennel, only for cats?”
Susan and I looked at him incredulously. As you have probably learned, San Geraldo often gets incredulous looks.
“You really don’t know what a cathouse is?” I asked.
“Yeah, like a kennel, right?” he replied.
I explained, “Jerry, a cathouse is a whorehouse.”
“No it’s not. You’re making that up.”
“I am not. It’s where you would go to… well, not you… uh… It’s where you go for pussy!
“Oh, stop it. It is not.“
Susan reached her hand to his cheek, nodded, and said, “It is.”
“Really?!?”
In unison, “Really.”
“Well, that’s just here. My mother won’t know what it is!”
“Trust me,” I assured him, “your mother will know.”
When we got home, San Geraldo immediately phoned his mother in Minnesota. I stood close so I could hear her response. “Mom, what’s a cathouse?”
She laughed and then, when he didn’t respond, asked, “Is this a joke?”
“No,” he muttered. “Do you know what a cathouse is?”
“Well, of course. Don’t you remember Lulu’s when we lived in Huron [South Dakota]?”
Stunned silence.
The next night, the phone was ringing when we got home from dinner. San Geraldo grabbed it. It was his Aunt Mildred (his mother’s oldest sister). I could hear her cackle all the way from Oregon, “Say, Jerry, what’s a cathouse?”
 |
| DOWN IN FRONT! DUDO IS A LINDA HUNT FAN. |
 |
| MOOSE HAS TWO SLEEPING SPOTS ON SAN GERALDO’S DESK. NOT MUCH ROOM TO WORK. |
 |
| THE BEAUTIFUL BLANKET I WON… APPARENTLY FOR DUDO. (CLICK HERE FOR THAT STORY.) |
 |
| I AM REQUIRED TO SET A CHAIR IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM SO THEY CAN SEE OUTSIDE. |
 |
| MOOSE ENTANGLED IN HIS OWN PERSONAL SUN BED. (IT DOES FORCE SAN GERALDO TO KEEP HIS DESK A LITTLE NEATER.) |
 |
| TRYING TO GET SOME PHOTOS OF THEIR NEW HOUSE. I WAS SUPERVISED. AND YES, DOWAGER DUCHESS, THEY’RE ON THE TABLE. I’VE GIVEN UP. THEY GO WHEREVER THEY WANT … WITH NO APOLOGIES. |
We may not have a Cat on the door, but ours is definitely a cat house.
Of the legal variety.
Bob:
So glad you run a legit operation.
Those are some highly decorative boys you have there. You might call them "self-propelled" art!
Ms. Sparrow:
They are everywhere! So nice that they're willing to let us share their space.
Do they want you to change all your potted plants to catnip? You probably should, you know. Otherwise they might not be having enough fun!
Kristi:
They have a fabric mouse with a velcro closure. I regularly put fresh catnip inside and they go nuts. But it always ends up (via Dudo) in one of their water dishes. Maybe he's trying to grow a batch himself.
Very funny indeed. I just thought: They call it a cat house because you find pussies? What would you call then a bordello where you find men? lol.
saludos,
raulito
Raulito:
Um… well, I have a feeling you came up with some answers.
It's good seeing the boys again. You have a unique way of photographing them – works of art! By the way it must be fun to live with such an innocent… I'm still laughing.
LOL! Hilarious!
You have got to have THE most adorable cats around!! Love the 'chair' one!!
Jim:
I know you can truly understand how in love we are with these cats. And we just passed our one-year anniversary together. THEY know what a cathouse is.
These pics have made my day! Just can't have enough of pussy-shots.
Raybeard:
They're getting terrace-trained. Out there on their own three days in a row and behaving themselves. And Dudo kissed me awake this morning. Heaven!
Lida hunt looks like my bloody mother
John:
Well, then Dudo would love your mother.
And isn't there a phrase about "catting around?" I've never been to a cathouse but it's never too late, right?
Stephen:
And you've heard about "a cat in heat." I've never been to a cathouse either. It's not too late… but…
This must be the week for cat posts. Yours are so clean and well-groomed. Mine's a bit worse for wear.
Walt the Fourth:
I guess that's the difference between country cats and seaside cats.
The things you learn on blogs. I didn't know what a cathouse was either, but when you wrote San Geraldo's name with it… it dawned on me.
People don't get me wrong, English is not my native tongue.
Peter:
That's the excuse I make for San Geraldo, as well. English is HIS second language because he grew up in South Dakota.