Me: “It’s getting kind of hot in here.”
Tweak: “Have they promoted you to Admiral yet?”
Me: “Admiral Obvious? It’s way too hot for seamen humor.”
Tweak has melted into a leather chair, legs in front, head sideways over the arm, pink belly exposed like Colonel Sanders on a drunk.
Me: “I thought you liked heat.”
Tweak: “I like WARMTH. This is Stygian.”
Me: “Have you been reading again?”
Tweak: “Only the phone number for the ASPCA.”
Tweak slides off the chair, sprawls on the hardwood, licks the floor.
Tweak: “Isn’t there a button on the wall that makes it cooler?”
Me: “Yes, but it’s expensive. Do you do any tricks for money?”
Tweak: “Don’t YOU??”
Tweak rolls on her back, legs spread in four different directions like a pinned biology frog. Or like a hint.
Me: “Bowie-dog’s coat is much heavier than yours. When she’s hot, she just pants.”
Tweak: “That dog couldn’t find her ass if her tongue was stapled to it.”
Me: “I used to have a cat that panted.”
Tweak goes still. All the oxygen leaves the room. The earth rumbles.
Tweak: “There were no other cats before me.”
Me: “I’ll turn on the air.”
28 June 2014, “Tolerating Tweak.”
Tolerating Tweak – “Cat on a Hot Tin Rough”
Illustrations by Susie Winnie Morrison