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

+++

Me: “Tweak! What did you eat??”

I am in bed. Tweak is sitting on my chest breathing at me.

Tweak: “Whatever nurdles you poured in my bowl. They’re shaped like X’s and pain.”

Me: “You love those nurdles.”

Tweak: “You feed me like a tic-tac-toe game.”

Me: “Your breath is terrible.”

Tweak: “It’s a game nobody wins.”

She yawns a cavern of death. Dreams die.

Me: “Maybe you should brush your teeth.”

Tweak inhales the nighttime from my mouth.

Tweak: “I also ate your soul. Maybe you should brush your soul.”

+++

14 June 2014, Tolerating Tweak — “My Soul Needs a Breath Mint”

Illustrations by Susie Winnie Morrison 

Tweak: “What’s wrong with her?”
Me: “Storm.”

It’s 4:00 a.m. I am lying on my back in bed. Tweak is lengthwise along my right side like a job shadow. On my left, on the floor, is a locomotive.

Tweak rolls just enough to knead her claws into my armpit: “But what’s WRONG with her?”
I fold a corner of blanket over my shoulder so she doesn’t draw blood. “The thunder frightens her.”

Bowie-dog is huffing like a freight train on the floor. She has scrabbled her body as close to the bed as possible. Her head is under a dresser. She is panting like the little engine that hates me.

The lightning flashes. My lips tickle. I open my eyes to see Tweak’s face six microns from mine. She is silently inhaling the night from my mouth.

Tweak: “She’s weird. All that breathing. Can’t you do something?”
Me: “No. I’ve tried. 11 years I’ve tried. There’s nothing for it except to let it pass.”

Tweak climbs down my abdomen and plants a foot into my bladder. “I don’t know how you put up with her.”

18 June 2014, “Tolerating Tweak.”

Tolerating Tweak — “Panting the Storm Out”

Illustrations by Susie Winnie Morrison. 

Me, checking the weather on my phone: “I don’t know what to wear today.”

Tweak, licking the white fur on her front leg: “Yeah, that’s a real problem.”

Me: “You don’t understand. It’s hot and humid outside, but my office at work is freezing.”

Tweak, rolling onto her back and nibbling the future of a hairball on her belly: “I don’t know how you can stand the pressure every day.”

Me: “If I wear shorts, It’ll be cold when I teach. But if I wear long pants, I’ll be sweating the rest of the time.”

Tweak, chewing her toe: “It’s like Sophie’s choice.

I pull out a pair of black shorts from the dresser, set them on the bed. I reach into the closet for long pants, turn back to find Tweak in rapid S-contortions, having a furgasm on my black shorts.

Me: “I guess I’ll wear long pants.”

Tweak: “You’re welcome.”

17 June 2014, “Tolerating Tweak”

—————–

Tolerating Tweak — “Furgasm”
Illustrations by Susie Winnie Morrison

+++

Tweak: “There were 17 flies in here last night.”

Me: “That’s a lot.”

Tweak: “After you unloaded groceries, you forgot to shut the door.”

Me: “Why didn’t you remind me?”

Tweak: “I was too busy ignoring you.”

Me: “I think a group of flies is called a LORD.”

Tweak: “I think 17 flies in your kitchen is called a DISGRACE.”

Me: “Well, did you take care of them?”

Tweak: “I gave them a beverage and showed them your Werther’s.”

Me: “You’re an enabler.”

Tweak: “I’m a genius.”

+++

16 June 2014, “Tolerating Tweak.”

“17 Flies” – Illustrations by Susie Winnie Morrison. 

+++

Me: “Stop sharpening your claws on my belly.”

Tweak: *purrs*

Me: “Seriously, I dreamed I was being attacked by giant insects.”

Tweak: *purrs, sharpens some more*

Me: “In Japan.”

Tweak: *pauses, squints*

Me: “Your claws are Samurai blades.”

Tweak: *smiles, sharpens like she’s in training for Benihana*

Me: “On Mothra.”

Tweak: *drools*

Me: “What-uh? You sink I beesh-uh too many time?”

Tweak: “You did not just say that.”

Me: “Would you like flies with that?”

Tweak: “How do you have any friends?”

*rakes harakiri across my sternum*

+++

15 June 2014, “Tolerating Tweak”

Today’s episode comes complete with visual aids.                             Illustrations by Susie Winnie Morrison.                            

Tolerating Tweak – “Mothra”

Me: “Tweak! What did you eat??”

I am in bed. Tweak is sitting on my chest breathing at me.

Tweak: “Whatever nurdles you poured in my bowl. They’re shaped like X’s and pain.”
Me: “You love those nurdles.”
Tweak: “You feed me like a tic-tac-toe game.”
Me: “Your breath is terrible.”
Tweak: “It’s a game nobody wins.”

She yawns a cavern of death. Dreams die.

Me: “Maybe you should brush your teeth.”

Tweak inhales the nighttime from my mouth.

Tweak: “I also ate your soul. Maybe you should brush your soul.”

14 June 2014, “Tolerating Tweak.”

Tolerating Tweak — “My Soul Needs a Breath Mint”

Illustrations by Susie Winnie Morrison 

My cat Tweak’s first post. She is very excited. I know this because she wrenched her claws out of my arm long enough for me to type this.

What follows are small conversations with my cat Tweak. Like all oracles of wisdom, Tweak is both beautiful and brain-damaged.

Cat Gasket

Me: “You have to move.”
Tweak: “No.”
Me: “I have to get up.”
Tweak: “Do you see how busy I am sitting here?”
Me: “You’ve sealed me in like a cat gasket.”
Tweak: “I could hold this meatloaf pose for hours.”
Me: “I need coffee.”
Tweak: “Hours.”

I un-twist out of the bed coffin, snagging a toe in the cold half of the blanket. I squint against the burn and try not to bark. “Dammit, Tweak. That’s gonna leave a mark.”

Tweak yawns: “Okay, I’ll come with you. I hope the cream is fresh this time.”

Also, this first episode comes complete with visual aids, drawn by Susie Winnie Morrison.

“Cat Gasket” — 2014 June 13