Okay, so before I tell you news of the animals in my neighborhood, let's wrap up the Karl Malden question.
Frankly, good ol’ Karl remains something of an enigma. A few of you knew exactly who he was – remind me never to play Trivial Pursuit against you! But the majority of you were like me: ‘Karl Malden’ sounds familiar but we can’t picture him and we have no idea why we know who he is. He’s a perfect example of why I’m daily grateful for the invention of Google.
Enough of the mysteriously famous Karl Malden. Let’s talk animals. Today when I got home from work I was greeted with the sight of an artistic yet clearly critical editorial comment from the cats. Message: I have not decorated to their taste. I know this because one of them (or perhaps both, working together in what would be a surprising display of teamwork) somehow popped the lid off one of the plastic storage bins under my bed (WITHOUT THUMBS, mind you) and used the 1” opening to liberate a 4” ball of blue wool. Then the kitties used the yarn to decorate the apartment – the result looked like a yarn version of those old ‘Family Circus’ comic strips where you could follow Little Billy through the labyrinth of his day. Modestly, neither claimed credit for this accomplishment. Also, neither rose to the bait when I accused them of being clichéd. Huh.
In the much more disgusting animal encounter of the day, I had a surreal moment with a squirrel. I was talking on the phone to my sister, idly looking out the window, when I saw a squirrel walking around on my apartment balcony, just on the other side of the window from me. I tried to get my cats interested, “Look! Kitties! It’s a SQUIRREL!” They heard me and looked very closely at my pointed finger, but missed the bigger picture. So I picked up Dickens and put his little pink nose to the glass. I’m standing there with the phone against one ear, holding my cat up for a better view, when the squirrel sees us.
Only 5 feet away from us, perched on the edge of my balcony, MAKING EYE CONTACT THE WHOLE TIME, the squirrel peed on my balcony.
Then he ran away. Dickens went off to investigate his dinner bowl. And my sister and I discussed the fact that my neighborhood squirrel is a pervert. I gotta tell you: my opinion of squirrels is at an all-time low.