With a Nod to Mr. Barker

I don't manage the day-to-day all that well, so you can imagine what a cluster-fuck the big picture stuff can get. For example, in changing jobs this year I found myself with a 401k account that needed to be rolled over. I postponed, I forgot, I made myself notes, it slipped my mind, eventually December 31st came and since I had done nothing, the company that managed the account cut me a check. They deducted the taxes and penalties, so it wasn't a big ol' check, but it was money that was supposed to stay invested for the "big picture" and I had let it slide. Needless to say, I'm less than enthusiastic about the opportunity to invest some of my Social Security money. Some people will do very well with that option, me, I'm looking at a refrigerator box, under a bridge, by the highway.

So, here I am with a couple of bucks I didn't plan on, feeling guilty for screwing up my financial future again, and I decided to make the best of it and use the money to improve my financial present. I paid off a couple of bills and I scheduled my kittens to be spayed. We got the kittens over the summer, two girls from the same litter, Tiki and Ollie. They were a month or two older than I was told and could have been spayed almost immediately, but the vet charges $250 each for spaying and insisted that we do them at the same time. Five hundred dollars while I was paying for G to go to summer camp, it wasn't feasible, so I put it off.

Then it was back-to-school time, then G's birthday, then the holidays loomed ahead, I kept procrastinating, five hundred dollars, Jesus! Finally, a friend told me about a low-income vet clinic that would spay them for less than $100 each. Sold American! With my ill-gotten 401k gains I called the clinic and made an appointment. They took my MasterCard number and told me to look for a package in the mail with instructions for care and feeding and directions to the clinic.

The clinic is located in South Boston. Southie is an old East Coast neighborhood. There are families there who have lived there for over a hundred years and the old aunts and grandmothers who never got their drivers' licenses hardly ever leave the ten blocks that compose their little world. There are new folks who have moved in, the unavoidable gentrification, but they are looked at with distain, they are alien, they are temporary, they are watched with suspicion, like a person with Connecticut plates driving through South Carolina.

The streets in Southie are a maze of narrow one-ways designed before the advent of the automobile and organized to scare away real estate agents and gay yuppies. That morning, as I navigated the directions to the clinic, I was blinded by the rising sun glaring off the snow piles lining the streets. I squinted to make out the street signs, took a right, then a left, down a road that looked more like an alley. Lined with garbage barrels and the back doors of stores and brick apartment buildings, it stretched for three city blocks. I drove slowly, looking for an address, a sign. I half expected to be obstructed by an old Catholic guy wearing a PETA T-shirt and picketing the clinic with garish pictures of tabby testicles, or met at the door by a sadistic vet wielding a butter knife and a clothes hanger. But eventually, I found a modest gray door with a small sign and a sticker advertising that they accept VISA, MasterCard and Discover. I parked illegally, as is the custom in Southie and carried my kitten crates inside.

I was greeted by a red-haired woman, red as in that orange color that happens when brunettes try to go blonde with a box of Loreal from the Walgreens. She had two good teeth and they were in the back, and she was as big as a Mini Cooper.

"You the one got lost?"

"I was in traffic, I called."

"Five more minutes, I would've sent you on your way."

"Sorry about that."

She looked at the two women sharing the reception desk with her. The first a tall, thin woman with a face like cordoroy and hair the color of a Days Inn shag carpet. The other a young, pretty brunette, fresh faced and wearing white scrubs decorated with cavorting puppies. Mini Cooper nodded with the satisfaction of putting me in my place, Cordoroy snickered and Puppy Girl seemed unaware as she reached for my file. I pictured Mini and Cordoroy planning an evening with Puppy involving kitty tranquilizers and one of those collar funnels, I shook my head to clear it of the unholy image and refocused on the file.

They had filled it in with info I had provided over the phone. My kittens, Tiki and "Oily" were scheduled to be neutered and get their rabies shots. Ignoring the unfortunate renaming of Ollie, I pointed out to Puppy Girl that the kittens are female, and should be spayed, not neutered, and that they already have their rabies shots, thankyouverymuch.

"You have a Tiki?" asked a woman standing in line behind me. She too, was holding two kitten crates.

"Yup. You?"

"I've got a Tiki," and she raised the right crate, "and a Baby," raised the left crate. The cats were long-haired, fluffy things, probably a couple of years old.

"Cute," I said, and turned back to Puppy Girl. Who had amended our file and offered it for me to sign. I reached down and picked up the beige crate, "This is Ollie." Puppy Girl took her back into the clinic and returned. I handed her the blue crate, "This is Tiki."

"You have a Tiki?" asked the woman again.

"Yeah, uh huh," I answered.

Again she offered me the two crates, again she introduced her cats, "I've got a Tiki and a Baby."

"That's nice," I assured her and turned back to Puppy Girl, who let me know I was all set. I left the line as the woman behind me stepped up and said, "I've got a Tiki and a Baby," it was time for me to get to work.

Because the clinic only performs sterilizations one day a week, pick-up and drop-off is very hectic and crowded. I made sure I got there on time. I didn't want to take any chances with Tiki/Baby lady picking up my Tiki/Ollie kittens, I was fairly certain she wouldn't notice the difference and half as convinced that Mini Cooper and Cordoroy would mix them up just for shits and giggles.

There were a couple of women in front of me, they were together, they were old, fragile, and hunched and they leaned on each other's arm for support. They were the Olsen Twins, circa 2053. As they waited for their pet, the one with the gray hair (Ashley) kept looking to the cage on the wall containing Kelly, a cat available for adoption. The one with the jet black hair (Mary Kate) slapped at Ashley's hand, "Stop it, you have enough!" Ashley moaned and signed and looked longingly at Kelly. Mini Cooper came out from the clinic to the reception desk with their cat in carrier.

"Do you have a ride, ladies?" They shook their heads. It was 7 degrees, windy and dark out. Mini Cooper shook her head, "If he doesn't die of exposure, you will." She huffed and dragged herself back into the clinic returning with what looked like carpet remnants. She and Cordoroy began duct taping the rug around the cat's carrier. Ashley was oblivious, she had wandered off to play with Kelly through the cage door. Mary Kate rolled her eyes and ignored her sister.

Puppy Girl came up to the reception desk and asked me who I was here for. I told her their names and from behind me I heard, "You have a Tiki?" This time I didn't bother to acknowledge her. My kittens came out in their respective crates, their bellies were clean shaven for the operation giving them a Paris Hilton, baby girl, Brazilian bikini wax look. They were aloof and obviously under the influence of drugs, further emphasizing the Paris Hilton connection. I wrapped them up in a blanket and took them out to my car.

I returned to retrieve my file and invoice in time to see Ashley hugging a squirming Kelly as Mary Kate shaking her head, mumbling angrily, filled out the adoption papers. Puppy Girl was on the phone giving the clinic address as Cordoroy explained that since the sisters were adopting the cat, the least the clinic could do was get them a cab ride home. Ashley nuzzled her new friend, tickled her ears and looked up at her sister, "I think I'll call her 'Tiki.""

Comments

[jr]

$250 for spaying? Wow, I guess things are more expensive in Boston. When we had Lucy spayed, the bill was $175 which included an overnight stay and microchip implantation. For your future reference (i.e. if you end up like Mary Kate and Ashley with more than 2 cats), the SPCA usually sets up free spay/neuter clinics through the year. Just check your local SPCA web site. :)

[buy viagra]

I enjoy reading about the entertainment industry and this kind of blogs I entertain a lot, thanks for the space, I bring a couple of links.
http://www.xlpharmacy.com/viagra/generic.php
http://www.safemeds.com/viagra/generic.html
Merry R. Fulkerson
86 Clarksburg Road Park
Phoenix, AZ 85003

[viagra online]

Favog, I made a similar resolution, but it's to drink less beer. So far so good, though I'm not losing the weight I might if I gave it up entirely...What is it about religious celerations and torturing chickens? There's that Jewish thing up here where they do pretty much the same thing. Does God really like that??