Fifty-two is the kitten year

Several times now, like two, Ned has called me out of the blue.

“Oh, hi, Ned. What’re you up to?”

“Just standing here panicking,” he’ll say.

Ned’s got some (wait for it) decisions coming up, and if you’ve read this not-blog before, you’ll know decision-making is not his bailiwick.

(Can you imagine? If this was your first time reading this bullshit, ever? Oh, hey, what’d I stumble across, here? Oh, Lort. Lort hep ya.)

Anyway. So he’s been panicking, because he has giant decisions to make at work, which I won’t go into, and also about our house. My house, fmr. His house, crnt.

See what I did, there? “crnt.” Oh my god, I love myself.

Our gaylord is selling the house. The gaylord and his husband are moving to Washington, D.C., a place, my mother was nice enough to inform me recently, where the White House is. “Honey, the White House is in Washington, D.C.”

My mother thinks I’m an absolute idiot, despite getting all Ss in elementary school. Did y’all have Ss and Us? Satisfactory and unsatisfactory. Next time I have sex, if I ever, ever remotely have sex again, Ima rate it with an S or a U. Or maybe F for finally.

Oh my god, we were not discussing the state of things in my girl parts (answer: see desert) (see: tumbleweeds) (see: closed for repair) (see: the way I get off topic is why no one wants to have sex with me).

So, the gaylord offered Ned the house. Not like, here, here’s a free house, but rather that he wouldn’t put it on the market if Ned wanted to buy it. I love that phrase. “On the market.” All I can think of is one of the toe/pigs headed to market. And the other, agoraphobic toe/pig, who stays home.

Wee wee wee.

Naturally this has sent Ned into a tailspin, and he’s been obsessing about his house and his work for months now. Which leads to a panic, and do you think he’ll learn anything about making decisions from this process? I don’t, either.

Anyway, he was in one of his panics, and I said, “You want to take a walk or something?” I’m trying to offer him better coping skills than the ones he’s using, which I will also not go into, but which may involve hops and barley.

Unfortunately for everyone with an eardrum, you cannot say the sentence, “You want to take a walk” without Edsel leaping up like a colt and piercing the air with the highest-pitched dog barks anyone has ever uttered. He’s like the Adele of dog barks.

That is when it was decided that I’d drive over to Ned’s, as he has the beginnings of a park trail four houses from his front door and he should really just buy that house, and that I would be bringing Edsel, who at this point had a serious jones for a walk.

I got his bucking bronco self in the car, and occasionally I’m reminded of the asshole people who used to say, “I knew a dog like Edsel. He was excitable his whole life. That dog may not ever calm down” and dear people like that: fuck you. You’re probably the same people who see a pregnant woman and tell her horror stories.

The point is, Edsel is pretty good in the car. He’s very good in the car, actually. I think the car makes him a little nervous, as opposed to everything else in this life. He sits in back quietly, usually, until this time, when we rounded the curve to Ned’s house.

Edsel lost.his.mind. It’s important I emphasize that with periods. Because not annoying.

But he did. Oh my god. He LEAPED to the front seat, a thing he never does, and scrambled across the dashboard, and did his piercing, awful, painful bark, and not only was it clear he knew where the fuck we were going,

unkkle nedz! we go to unkkle nedz o edzul god unkkle nedz!!

It also dawned on me,

maybe he thinks Tallulah still lives there.

I mean, he’s seen Unkkle Ned a million times since we moved out of there. Granted, this is the first time I took him back there, I think, but his excitement transcended Unkkle Ned.


That just about killed me, is what it did.

He was so excited to go in there, and he sniffed around, and whined happily when he saw NedKitty, who did not return the glee, but two times I said, “Tallulah” when we were there and both times he whipped his head around. He doesn’t do that when I say her name at home.

Bob never vomits at home. (Did you see Airplane?) (If not, then I just sounded insane.)


Anyway, we joined Manic Panic, over there, on a long walk, although I have to say it wasn’t a Ned walk like when we lived together. That motherfucker with the motherfucking endless energy and his motherfucking fast walks for hours at a time, and you’d be all blistered and sweaty and exhausted and he’s be all, “What?”

It wasn’t one of those.


He told me, on our walk, about going to the vet to get NedKitty her million-dollar old lady cat food, and how they had a sign on a door: kittens for adoption in here! And how he went in because he knew it’d be MY ACTUAL HEAVEN, and “They only had one kitten left. He was so great. All black, just chasing his tail.”

I stopped completely.

“What?” said Ned.

“You had a kitten. THE KITTEN WHO WAS LEFT BEHIND. A black kitten, the last to ever be chosen. You’re ALMOST OUT OF CATS and you had in front of you AN ABANDONED KITTEN, who NOBODY WANTED, and you just shut the door and LEFT him in there?!

I was appalled.

Ned got his Reasonable Voice, and if you ever wanna piss me off, be sure to use your mature, reasonable, you’re-so-silly,-June voice with me. “June, the last thing I want to do is bring some asshole kitten into NedKitty’s final days, so she goes out thinking, ‘i hate that asshole.'”

Ned want back to his walk. Whatever with Ned. He has two stories! What’s wrong with, you know, keeping one upstairs and Anne Franking the other one downstairs? I see nothing wrong with that plan.

His birthday is in 23 days. Fifty-two is the kitten year.

I asked Ned to take a picture–one picture–of Eds and me, and he took 49, so here are some for your viewing pleasure. Really mostly the whole walk, Ned ignored the magnolias and the cicadas, which I heard for the first time last night. He ignored the fireflies and the pink sky. He ignored all that to worry about work and his house.


We went back to Ned’s house, where I had leftover lemonade from his cookout this weekend, lemonade I’d have consumed within 24 hours, and whatever with Ned. There weren’t any Ruffles left, which irked.

Why the stubborn pounds?

Anyway, I guess it’s possible Ned’s gonna buy our house, fmr., and he’ll probably propose to someone on that porch swing and it won’t be me. He’ll probably live with some other bitch there, and there’s nothing I can do about that except buy that house out from under him, and does anyone have hundreds of thousands of dollars I can have? Thanks.


After awhile it got late and I had to go. I took Edsel with me.

What should we name Ned’s new black birthday kitten surprise?

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At one point, I was sort of hot, in a "she's 27 and probably a 7" kind of a way. Now I'm old and have to develop a charming personality. Guess how that's going.

54 thoughts on “Fifty-two is the kitten year”

  1. I have my very first black kitty ever and he is perfect in all ways. Y’all helped me name him. He came to me three weeks before Christmas and y’all suggested Christmas themed names and he officially became Cornelius Coal Christmas Kitty. Black kitties are the awesomest!

    Welcome back, Joob!!! You know what though, had no idea you wrote a freaking post two days ago. Nobody told me, not even at the Pie FB fan page. I feel left out, like that last black yittle bitty kitty at the vets. Yittle bitty baby boobookins wants to go to Ned’s house. Tell Ned I said that. Wait to hear Ned’s Reasonable Voice kick in. Tell him he’s getting a U for his tone and wouldn’t he rather have an S. Also, I went to a school with the Us and Ss, and forgot all about them. You have a memory like an elephant. I was always U that that particular school did Us and Ss,


  2. Great post! I feel for Ned. And Edsel.

    You look so cute and summery. You’ve inspired me to invest in some pink jeans.


  3. After another long day of unpacking our belongings and trying to figure out where they might fit in our new house, this post was just what I needed. Thanks for the laughs, June. Great to have you back!


  4. BlackHeart for the kitten name. For leaving the kitten in the first place and he’ll never be able to live it down.


  5. He is almost out of cats. Loved that line! You know you look really skinny in the photos with Edz? Well, you do.

    If that black kitten is a female the only name for her is JUNE! If kitten is male, James Brown. Poor Ned he is really under pressure, having to make decisions at work, then comes home to more decisions.

    Great post!


  6. I mean, I feel like you obviously name the kitten after yourself so he has to live with you in that house forever.

    Yay, you’re back! And your little outfit is so cute and you look thin.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Lovely post June! Birthday Kitten Surprise ….dying. I can just imagine the face Ned would make and then the only thing left to do since you can’t bring the poor thing BACK, can you, would be to introduce NedKitty to her new brother. I agree, you look so skinny!


  8. WHOA. WordPress showed me posting as some person I’ve never seen or heard of. Maybe MY identity got stolen? That was me commenting on the pink pants!


  9. YAY! YOU POSTED! I am late! But so happy! Also, you look GREAT. I mean, go ON with your bad self in those pink pants.


  10. This has to go in the Top Ten June Posts of All Time. I know you hate random capitalization but it was required here. Outstanding post. And my favorite line was “You are almost out of cats!”


  11. This post made me so happy. So much to love in here. I’m so glad you’re back.


  12. great post joob. i dearly miss fireflies. i’m seriously considering somewhere in the south for my next move. because, as you probably have come to understand by now, texass is just not groovin it for me.

    i do feel sorry for ned. ish. i mean, dude, if you’ve lived this long why in the hell haven’t you gone to counseling to work out this crippling issue? his indecisions affect (effect? ugh) other people as well. anyway, that’s why ‘ish’.

    baby catten: oscar


    1. I think his ex brought the cat into the relationship, if I remember correctly. Whatever with that relationship, what matters is that he may have not made the decision to get NedKitty, but she remained and he has cared for her since. Maybe the same could happen with future kitties given to him.


  13. I didn’t get to comment yesterday, but boy (lady/woman), am I glad to see you back. Love love love the pink shoes!! Only because you asked: name the kitten Black Birthday Kitten Surprise, Beeks for short as BBKS is probably tiresome to say after a while. I like 52 as well. Kind of like Seven in Stranger Things. OR name it Seventeen as a Stranger Things reference AND year of birth reference. OMG now I want a kitten so I can name it Seventeen.


  14. “the way I get off topic is why no one wants to have sex with me”
    I read this as “the way I get off, is why no one wants to have sex with me”…………..?!??!!????


    1. And I read this with my Beavis and Butthead voice. “She said, ‘the way I get off,’ huh huh, huh huh” Because: grown up woman with inner 7th grade boy brain today. Because: Friday.


  15. Black kittens are always left behind for some reason. On my third now and I love them so much. All of mine have been affectionate furry love balls.

    I feel sorry for Ned and his indecisive self. Work is stressful and now home is stressful as well. It took triple bypass surgery to teach me what was important and it isn’t work. You said he was president so I guess that is different from just being a worker bee like myself. But it seems like buying that house would be an easy decision as it is beautiful and has a lovely front porch just made for sipping libations on.


  16. If you really wanna surprise him, get TWO kittens. Because the new one will need a friend when NedKitty goes, so you might as well save him from the indecision of picking out another one and just do it for him.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. LaUral is right, two kittens. One of my greatest regrets, I adopted a kitten (6 fmr.) that was the sister of a brother and sister pair. I SHOULD have adopted the brother too. The next pair of siblings I was exposed to? I kept BOTH of them, Oscar Snuggles, King of Tidewater and Emmy Sweat Pea, the best cats ever.


  17. Great post, June! Ned’s decision-making paralysis baffles me. I’m not one to make big decisions all willy-nilly, but at SOME POINT, the deliberations must come to an end. Magnolias and cicadas are the reasons people live in the south! I’m proud of you for not screaming “YOU’RE MISSING IT!” every three minutes, as I would have done.
    Additionally, your pink jeans are super cute!


  18. Poor Ned with all his anxiety. But I was happy to see Eds’ big smiles. And you, June, look great.


  19. Almost Anxiety Reliever Good Heavens….Aargh for short
    Ned could buy the house and sell it if he isn’t happy with it later. Or leave it to you in his will….you know..indecision can kill.

    Liked by 1 person

  20. Oh, Ned. I do feel sorry for him. It sucks to be him right now. I think that black kitten was a sign. Especially if he is still thinking about him (her?).

    I love the pictures of Edsel. Poor Edz. He is still holding out hope. Losing a love is hard for a long time.

    Lovely post, lovely June.


  21. I loved this post!! Is the kitten male or female or you don’t know? Probably you don’t know or you’d’ve said. If it’s male: Fidel.


  22. Indecision. Great name for a cat.

    Also too poor Edsel with his Tallulah sized hole in his heart. Anyone who says dogs don’t know friendship and love is an idiot.

    Plus the part where you said “crnt” I read wrong. Sub “u” for “r” and you’ll see why I did a double-triple-quad take.

    Wouldn’t it be awesome if you could just buy that house and tell Ned “SORRY! HE WHO HESITATES! YOU LOSE!”


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