WE’RE ALMOST BACK IN BUSINESS
Photo: Megan Reynolds

In New York, summer has finally ended, though it lingered for longer than some might have liked. A sticky breeze blew through the city, coating everything in a slick of face grease and palm sweat—a hellish harbinger of a future in which seasons are a distant memory and the earth slowly but surely boils itself to death. It is jacket season. Boot season. Fall is here. And my cat is nearly back to her old self.

The powers she gained since losing all of her hair are now fully manifesting; on Saturday she and the boy cat sat on the sofa together for upwards of four hours. He thrust his tail in her face by accident. She cleaned his tail with resignation, a woman doing the work that a man cannot—or will not—do. He was unappreciative, and very vocal about it, yowling in protest when she tried to be thorough. After nightfall, he humped his sweater in the living room and hissed at her as she tried to carefully walk around his sexual fumblings. Undeterred by his pathetic attempt at sexual gratification and his act of aggression towards her, she plodded past.

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PEACE.
Photo: MEGAN REYNOLDS

Her tail is still a bottle brush, though its contours have been blurred by fur. The Ugg boots have disappeared. Her neck is now uniform with the rest of her body. Her spirit thrives. I had hoped that her body would return to its full power by the vernal equinox but alas, Gaia had other plans. While she is almost back in action, there’s still some time to go. She looks good—very good, some might say—but not great. I’m patient. I’m waiting. I have so much time.