Before I came over to London for my latest two months here, I was having a hard time finding a cat sitter to live in my loft with my cats, Finn and Matty. I was posting a lot about it over at Facebook and having to deal with a lot of judgment about my leaving them for these two months. I was accused of being a bad cat companion for doing so and engaging in a kind of cat cruelty for having the audacity to live a human life. I was even beginning to question my having Finn and Matty in my life any longer and if the kindest thing I could do would be to re-home them with the help of Animal Kind, the cat rescue place down the street from me where I had rescued them. I had almost made the decision to do it with lots of tears involved arriving at it. My heart was breaking and they sensed it. And then the narrative took another sudden turn - as narratives in my life always do. So Matty and Finn are still in my loft and living with the cat sitter who seemed conjured for me at the last minute - maybe even by them.
I have decided, however, that am a dog person who happens to love two cats - which, come to think of it, could sort of be the children’s book version of Cock, the Mike Bartlett play currently at the Ambassadors Theatre in the West End which has a narrative that turns on a gay man leaving his male lover and falling into a joyful fuck-fest with a female one. How’s that for a turn of a narrative right here in the column?
(TO READ MORE ABOUT FINN AND MATTY AND THEIR CAT SITTER - AND TO SEE A PORTFOLIO OF PHOTOS OF THEM THAT HE HAS SENT ME HERE IN LONDON - AS WELL AS TO READ THE REST OF MY REVIEW OF COCK, SUBSCRIBE FOR $5 A MONTH OR $50 A YEAR. )