Syncronicity

A passage in the book I'm reading (The Last Days of Dogtown but Anita Diamante) describes a boy going through the woman who raised him's junk drawer (this is set in the 1800's). There is one drawer that contains the wrappers of every sweet she has ever eaten.

Fast forward a few hours and I am watching a movie (The Science of Dreams). The main character is wandering through his mother's apartment and he comes across a box of empty toilet paper rolls and...a box of empty candy wrappers.

This is Snowy and Crowy now being offered on ebay.

The Man With The Beautiful Eyes

Story by Charles Bukowski, Illustration by Jonny Hannah

Boby

I just got done washing dishes over my cat Boby. Yes, he was perched directly in front of and on the edge of the sink as I tried not to splash him too much with the hot water. Takes a bit longer this way but not much, I've done it many times before. You see, Boby is my constant companion. He is on my lap right now as I write this. I'm not sure when in the 16 odd years I've had Boby that he got so dependent on me.

Let's start at the beginning. Flash back to 1991. I had just lost my cat Henny to a car accident a week before and my dad calls and says someone found a cat at the airport (this is how I remember it anyhow) and he was bringing it to his house and didn't I want to come over that night to meet him. "He's real nice..." Dad says. Well, I didn't want another cat, I was heartbroken over the loss of my beloved Henny and i was fairly certain I was done with pets. "OK," I reluctantly say, "I'll come and meet him, but I DON'T want another cat." Go over there and he's nice, pretty mellow laying there on Dad's couch. "Yes, he's very nice Dad, but I don't want another cat. Besides, he doesn't have much of a personality." I say, standing my ground. "Well, just take him home for the night, see how it goes." And so it went, a night turned into a few weeks. I named this mellow tabby Bobo and lo and behold he grew a personality. Basically he grew into his name. Bobo got fat. He also got comically cranky at times, but for the most part, he became my best friend.

Very smart, he'd respond to complicated games I'd make up, somehow understanding what I wanted him to do. One of our favorites was playing with a tiny piece of toilet paper. Boby would be lolling around on his back and I would drop a tiny piece of tissue on him. He'd watch it slowly flit down and then chomp for it right at the exact moment it got close enough. If he actually got it in his mouth, he'd spit it out for the game to resume. Course, I'd have to tear off a new piece at this point. This could go on for a quite some time.

Boby developed what I called an eating disorder. He loved his food. We kept it out all the time and after he got fat, had to resort to feeding him just two times a day. This made him mad and he would sit by his dish and if anyone walked by he'd let out a loud MOW! Sounded to me like an angry NOW! Well, he's slimmed down in his later years and has a much healthier relationship with food. Water was an obsession for him too back then. Every morning while at the bathroom sink, Boby would perch on the counter and wait for me to fill the sink so he could drink and drink and drink. This went on for years, til the habit got broken by a sink that would not plug. He knows it's not going to happen now, but he remembers because every so often he'll sit up there and sadly wait.

There are always a coupla fake mouse toys laying around. Boby likes to hunt them. If I am downstairs, he'll find one upstairs (and vice versa) and make this strange loud noise, he'll continue to make the noise as he triumphantly carries the mouse downstairs WEERRRRRAAAKKKK!!!! WEERRRRRAAAKKKK!!!! (the noise is considerably louder now that Boby had lost his hearing). He drops the toy and looks up at me as if to say, what do you think about that!? I always praise him for being such a good hunter.

Actually he can be quite ferocious. I dated this guy once who insisted on bringing his young black lab over (Princess). My other cat smitty headed for the hills but not Boby, he stood his ground on the dining room table and if I hadn't swooped in he'd have jumped right on the dog's massive head!

Nowadays, if i am not standing, Boby is on top of me. If I am standing, he is as close as he can get, head butting me to get me to notice him. At night, I get into bed and Boby waits a half of a second and there he is, ready for me to pull back the covers enough for him to crawl into position, in the crook of my arm, and go to sleep. Back when I was married Boby would do this with my husband as well and Manuel would say it reminded him of his little white bunny toy he had as a kid which he used to clutch in the crook of his arm at bedtime.

That's Boby, my sweet, cranky, brave, little white bunny.