A new management company has been hired to oversee operations in our building. We love our doormen and everyone who works here and would hate to see any of them replaced, but there is a tiny part of me that would really like to live in a building where nobody remembers our first fifteen minutes as tenants when our 23 pound "cat" unburdened himself onto the lobbys shiny marble floor as we introduced ourselves to the staff. It wasn't at all his fault. We were way past the time of day (pre-siesta, post claw sharpening) that he usually disappeared into his litter box. Benito had instead spent the entire day locked in our bathroom while a burly troupe of movers packed up our old place and then twenty anxious minutes in the cab as we sped downtown, during which he stared out the window like a golden retriever while the actual dog lay on the floor with his eyes closed trying not to throw up. He was really wanting out of my arms by the time we arrived, and the introductions were really dragging on with him digging into my shoulder. I thought we were home free when suddenly, he relaxed his grip. And then our new doorman was pointing at the floor around my feet and yelling "look what is happening!" The rest is an ugly blur. An entire roll of paper towels, a half gallon of disenfectant, and four months later and I can still barely hold my head up when I walk through the lobby six times a day.
When TC and I had to present letters to the condo board in our building in order to be considered as tenants (don't even get me started on what is considered normal in this city) I hadn't even mentioned the cat. I was asked to also send in photos of both of us, our pets, and descriptions of our lifestyles, achievements, and goals. Rather than focus on TC and I (apart from the obligatory assurance that at least one of us has a real job), I wrote this. We were approved. I really did not think it necessary to mention our cat or his enviable regularity. And just for the record, the little bad-weather booties that I bought for Lobo in an effort to keep my floors clean lasted about two days. I don't want to know what happened to them, My best guess is bad enough.
While I am exceedingly proud of how far our little family has come in terms of language barriers, socialization and being almost completely housebroken, I know that the majority of us Ross / Flemings will likely always be at least partly feral. Its more of a compromise for TC than it is for me. I have certainly never been accused of being overly polished. In fact, a college boyfriend used to hum the theme song from "Born Free" whenever he watched me eat. But even TC had resigned himself happily to living in "an endless episode of Mutual of Omahas Wild Kingdom". So, you can imagine our surprise when, along with Valentino and his diamond-clad pug and Frederick Fekkai and his darling spotty little spaniel, Lobo and I appeared on the "Guest Stars and Their Pets" section of Martha Stewarts website today. Of course, had we known what the photo was for we might not have submitted this particular shot, which is of the post-nap self portrait type, but we'll take it.
If his old friends in Quito could see him now. Hanging out with Martha and napping with cats. And yes, I will be a guest on the Martha Stewart Show (without Lobo, sadly) on May 19th!