nothing like a little adversity to get in the way of one’s pity party.

there i was, all balled up in misery and feeling three apples tall because nobody has called me regarding the job i interviewed for last Friday, wondering why on earth my well-being consistently requires external validation and whether or not – in the same breath – i’m really worthy of anything nice whatsoever, when a stray cat from the back deck decided to sidle on in to our house and make it home.

ah yes, kitties. they make everyone feel better. :)

unfortunately, we already have a cat – a rather similar looking one, actually, both of them gingery – who was at that moment parked about three feet from the deck door. as our Clementine had, until that moment, been unaware of her adopted status and presumably had thought herself a human, she was a little, erm, shocked to discover this four-legged interloper twin in her porch. she puffed up like the abominable snowman, with a tail like a feather boa. the hobo cat followed suit. i, intrepid tamer of wild beasts that i am, was caught squealing in the middle. in two seconds flat, before anyone could say “i’m in ur porchez giving u rabiez,” there was a flurry of squirming and howling – most of that me, i’ll admit – which resulted in one incensed urchin kitty outside the door, one incensed – and still puzzled – indoor kitty inside the door, and one stray-cat puncture wound to my right hand.

now, it didn’t really hurt. nor did it bleed much. but wow, did it make me feel better. because, suddenly, i was exempted from flailing about in my existential limbo of internal vs. external validation. i was in. danger. of. death.

death, people! death is very validating. and dramatic. wouldn’t you want to hire someone who’d just escaped the jaws of death?

okay, it was a very small danger. after some helpful internet research, Dave pointed out to me that only some infinitesimal number of people (the exact count has been blocked from my brain out of respect for my own dignity) have actually died from rabies in North America since 1924. and most of them were bitten by bats, not kittens.  but still. it gave me a script to be in, and even if that script looked less like a pleasant, rewarding office setting than a replay of all the high noon showdown moments between man and rabid beast in Old Yeller and To Kill a Mockingbird, it was still interesting, at least. Atticus Finch would line up to shoot me! moi! that dashing Gregory Peck, i bet he’d even wink at me a little as i lurched toward him, foaming in the noonday sun. i bet he’d wonder why no one had given a nice girl like me a good job, before i sank to such depravity.

of course – and to the relief of the large part of my psyche more concerned with survival than narrative entertainment – nothing so exotic has gone down. i still haven’t gotten a call about the job. the cat bite, thoroughly washed with antibacterial soap, is looking pretty insipid and uninfected. the trip to the hospital at 11 pm by myself for the recommended tetanus shot – because i can never find that damn card with my vaccination records when i actually need it – was really quite dull, if peaceful, as driving through an empty town in the dark always is for me. i haven’t done that for awhile, seen the city lights down low, scooted through dark streets with no one else in sight. i enjoyed it. i enjoyed the perspective it offered, the feeling of self-sufficiency and being sufficient unto myself – me in my Kia, cruisin’, with cat bite.

nothin’ like a little daydream of dread disease to perk one up, i always say. perversely inspirational to my slightly beaten self-esteem, which just wants to star in something.

now that i’ve found my tune - or my Wild West drama of pestilence-infested underdogs, hell i ain’t fussy – again, i’m good. a little curious about whether a sane person should be cheered by imagining herself a rabid dog about to be shot, yes, but only idly. whatever works.

now i just need to explain to poor Clementine why she’s furrier than the rest of the family.  i think she suspects something, now…any tips for breaking it gently?