Or how an orange furball played the “Tiny Tim” card to invade the premises.
TP: This is a surprise, Little Man. I thought you were taking the summer off. No more therapy until fall, you said.
LM: Yeah, well circumstances changed, doc. I need you to talk me down from the ledge.
TP: That’s heavy. What happened?
LM: They did it, doc. I just can’t believe they really did it! Again!
TP: Who did what?
LM: Mom and dad, that’s who, and another cat is what.
TP: Another cat? Living in your house? Since when?
LM: Since yesterday! I guess they figure I’ve had two years to get over their last attempt at adoption with that stooge, Curly, so here we go again.
TP: Two years? Has it been that long since Curly?
LM: Yep. Took me one week and the storm of the century—that derecho thing—to send him packing. But this one’s gonna be a little tricky.
TP: How so?
LM: Well, mom’s been hammerin’ dad for months to let her bring this kid in. You and I talked about him before, in fact. You remember, the one with the buddy named Elvis?
TP: Oh right. Elvis and what, The Colonel, wasn’t it?
LM: Not after today it’s not. The Colonel’s gettin’ a new handle and Elvis has left the building, as they say.
TP: They were both in foster care, right? Waiting to be adopted?
LM: Right. Well, looks like Elvis might be headed for adoption, but not The Colonel. And the foster family can’t keep him any longer—something about problems with the dog or the gerbil, or some damn thing…who knows! Anyway, when mom found out her heartthrob, The Colonel, was destined for a cage at a shelter, she blew out all the stops trying to find him another foster home, but no luck. Kid’s got some medical condition apparently.
TP: Medical condition?
LM: Yeah, I don’t know the details, but a lot of cats get it. It’s not a live-or-die deal but foster cats that have it are harder to place in permanent homes, I guess. So mom convinced dad to let her, get this, “temporarily foster” the kid while she continues to try and find him a “forever home.” I ain’t buyin’ it!
TP: You don’t figure it’s really a short-term arrangement?
LM: Listen, doc., I didn’t just fall off the back of some turnip truck. First of all, this cat’s been in foster care for months already, so his “sell by” date’s gettin’ a bit dog-eared. (Pardon the pun!) Before that, he was out on the streets, where he lost his tail and half of one of his ears.
TP: And throw the “medical condition” on top…
LM: You got it. And that officially wraps up the sympathy vote!
TP: Uh-huh. And let me guess, he’s a cuddler.
LM: Right. A little orange ball of woe is me to tug at mom’s heartstrings and lie in her lap.
TP: So, he’s like a male Annie looking for Daddy Warbucks?
LM: You mean Mommy Warbucks! And he’s not lookin’, he found her. This kid’s right up my mom’s alley. Sweet, vulnerable, rejected, blah-blah-blah.
TP: Hmm. And with just enough Tiny Tim in him to convert Mr. Scrooge?
LM: Dad? Yep. Looks that way.
TP: So what’s your play this time? Gonna storm the barricades like a…how did your mom put it last time…”a psycho, crazed gunslinger?”
LM: Don’t know. Depends on the kid, how tight he tries to get with dad, how much respect he shows yours truly. We’ll see. One thing for sure, those barricades you mentioned have been seriously reinforced since last time.
TP: Plus, maybe you’re mellowing just a bit, Little Man?
LM: Don’t count on it, doc. Ask the chipmunks and birds how much I’ve mellowed.
TP: Not a good idea to under estimate you, huh?
LM: Right. My dad says I remind him of that John Wayne guy in True Grit. You see that movie, doc?
TP: Sure did.
LM: Dad says there’s this scene at the end where an old, overweight U.S. Marshall with only one eye…that’s Rooster Cogburn, the John Wayne character…
TP: I remember.
LM: Anyway, he’s facing off against “Lucky” Ned Pepper and Ned’s whole crew of bad guys. Rooster tells Ned Pepper to give up or else. “Lucky” Ned, of course, just laughs that off and baits Rooster with the line, “That’s bold talk for a one-eyed fat man!”
TP: Right, right. Then Rooster takes ‘em all out in a gunfight. Great stuff! But what’s that have to do with our conversation?
LM: Aw, you know how my dad’s always relating movie dialogue to real life. I don’t know, I guess dad sees the wildlife around our house sort of like “Lucky” Ned Pepper and his gang, and he sees me—with my somewhat stocky build and poor eyesight—as Rooster Cogburn, who “can still move pretty damn fast for a far-sighted fatso.”
TP: (Chuckles.) By the way, what’s the new kid’s new name?
LM: You mean Lover Boy?
TP: Lover Boy? Really?
LM: Yeh, mom got the naming rights on this one. I’d pooh-pooh it, but apparently my dad had a really cool uncle whose nickname was Lover Boy, so maybe the kid’ll turn out to be cool, too. I’m just happy my mom didn’t have final say about my name.
TP: What did she want to call you?
LM: OK, but keep this to yourself.
TP: Of course, Little! You know everything said here is held in strict confidence.
LM: Right. Well, she wanted to go with Tuna Fish. You believe that? Granted, Little Man may seem a bit out of sync with the hunk of mansome that I’ve become but at least it’s not a generic food. Tuna Fish! Why not Peanut Butter or Pork ‘n Beans?
TP: Hmm. Good your dad stepped in.
LM: Yep. The old boy had my back, as usual.
TP: Hey, maybe you’ll end up having Lover Boy’s back. Sounds like he could use a good buddy.
LM: You think? The boy’ll need some luck for that to happen.
TP: At least a little more than “Lucky” Ned Pepper, eh?
LM: A little more, indeed. See you in September, doc.
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