Wednesday, September 09, 2015
Tiny “Murks” goes missing. And Hobnel sick almost,
while frantically searching.
But...a daily occurrence. And the elusive Murks
always shows up around dinner, meriting the
best little tin of cat food.
It grows dark, though, and we exhaust all
the hiding places.
“Dark cat on a dark night...maybe he's heat-
seeking.” From Zello, the beer distributor
who always wore Birkenstocks. "They say
you're never too old,” he confides to Nehru-
Before you think we're a bunch of hippies, we're
a bunch of hippies. Never fully reclaimed by the
Bent, who channels Walt Whitman, finds Murks
dead under some wiry brush.
"No sign of violence," pronounces Doc. “Just
Bent then embarks on a bad trip, and Doc quickly
places him into Shoreline Clinic. So he can’t compose anything for the funeral.
It falls to Zollo, somehow. "I'm...a blunt man.
A lovely, lovely cat. A miraculous creature
of God to take your breath away!"
Tillie then lifts the lid off the shoebox, and her
artwork, so we all could eventually see Murks
darkly nestled into multicolored scarves--
once she nudges one aside, its silver-
Zollo loses it. "I never cry," he keeps repeating.
Then we all do.
We toast Murks at Kippy's Kool Kup after,
individually rubbing Hobnel's shoulders too.
Lillian pushes us aside, her profession and she
doesn’t abide amateurs.
Then we all beg her, and she massages each
in turn as Kippy keeps the Seven and Sevens
flowing her way.