Starring Me, Joe's Cat!
by Jon Sindell
closing, I say to the spirit of my brother, God
bless you, Joe! May flights of angels bear thee
to thy rest!
me while I collect myself.
dear friends, in accordance with Joes
express testamentary instructions, I would like
to invite Joes beloved cat, Muffin, to say
a few words in remembrance of Joe.
scratching. We will wait. After all, as Joe once
said, if youve got an itch, scratch it.
Sound advice, no?
still scratching. Muffin?
lord, she's stretching. Fair enough, can't blame
her for loosening the lithe, lovely limbs that
Joe loved so well. Oh, how he admired them! As
did we all, in the thousands of photos that Joe
shared in photo albums, on Facebook, on Instagram,
and in holiday calendarsevery single year.
That big lug had a love for his cat that was
beyond compare. Beyond comprehension. Which is
the reason he insistedI can show you the
clause in his willthat Muffin speak at his
grief, Muffin, are you coming?
shes flopped on her side in a pool of
sunlight. Isn't that nice? Well, who could blame
her? Here we sit, misguided humans dressed in
dreary black and wallowing in gloom, while Muffin
reminds us to seek the lightas Joe no doubt
would want us to do.
up! And sauntering this way. Come forward, Muffin.
Take your time. No need to hurry.
stopped! Trying, surely, to tell us something.
Reminding us, I think, that we all must marchor
stroll, as the case may beto the beat of
our own drummer. As did Joe, that lover of cats
and colored rubber bands. He had quite a
collection. Thousands and thousands, in all
colors and sizes. Dear, sweet, odd old Joe.
bloody hell, shes stopped again! Rats!
Muffin, it's a figure of speech, there aren't any
good grief, there she goes, chasing a non-existent
rat into a pew. Which is fine. I'm sure she
intends to lay it in the casket as a tribute to
Joe, just as she laid so many dead sparrows and
bloodied but undead mice on his pillow as he
completed her escapade and is stepping forward.
Pouting, of course. Look, I told you, cat, there
are no rats. People, wait, I've got an idea. I'll
put some of Muffins favorite treats in this
censer and shake it. She comes! Don't anyone move.
your treat on the lectern, kitty. Voilà! The
wondrous power of canned `Ocean Feast!' Just
speak into this. And now, dear friends, I yield
the mic to Lonesome Joe's dearest companion, the,
ahem, `Comely Comfy Queen of Cats.' Muffin?"
Well. So many faces looking up at me. Some
familiar, some not, all distressingly hairless
and dull, but with one essential thing in commonan
irresistible desire to gaze at me. Which is fine.
I'm used to it, believe me.
been asked to speak about Joe. Joe served me
several varieties of `kitty treats.' But
something's not a `treat' just because they call
it that. In reality, they are dry and rather
tasteless. I don't like them much. I ate them
because I was hungry, that's all. Like anyone
else, I prefer fresh-killed rodents and birds. On
the other hand, I did somewhat like the wet food
Joe served on my favorite china plate, the one
with the bluebirds. My favorites were `Kidney Pie,'
`Chicken And Liver,' 'Turkey And Rice,' `Mackerel,'
'Liver With Bacon,' 'Tuna Entrée'the word
`entrée' was both superfluous and precious, as
it was the only course Joe servedand `Chicken
With Gravy.' `Beef And Cheese' was okay, but they
should leave out the cheese, it's disgusting.
Generally speaking, I like canned foods that are
creamy. I lick the wet part then eat the flesh. I
also enjoy a saucer of cream, but I don't care
for milk. Remember that.
else can I say about Joe? Wait, I rememberthe
oaf stepped on my tail once! But I got him. Teeth
and claws, babe, teeth and claws.
will you look at thatJoe's cat-hating
brother is signaling me to stop. No wonder Joe
called him an arrogant jerk. Fine. Whatever. I've
got stuff to do.
me say in closing, I hope youve enjoyed
looking at me so long. No wonder my people were
worshiped in Egypt. If you'd like to gaze further,
you will find more than three-thousand pictures
of me on Joes social pages. Also, I'm
available to pose for pictures for a price, but
be advised that I do not pose with children under
eleven, and there is an extra fee for sitting on
laps. Finally, If anyone would like to publish a
book of photographs of me, I'll connect you with
the funeral. I need to eat."