Want to hear something awful? I'm the crazy cat lady with ten cats, and I play favorites. Top spot normally rotates among a dim but gorgeous angora-soft long haired calico, an aggressively affectionate (and jealous) black short hair, a dignified tabby tom who devotedly mothers kittens, and little Kismet. Yeah, this is about Kismet. He's a purr-crazy, semi-long haired, black kitten with two white eyelashes and three white whiskers, and he will never tip the scale at five pounds.
I wrote nearly every word of my Lesbians vs Zombies story, Dead Kitties Don't Purr, with Kismet purring in my lap or nestled in a cage beside me. Why a cage? Because he got a horrendous shoulder fracture that required weeks of total confinement. When he finally regained free run of the house, he came down with what seemed to be a series of bladder infections. He ate almost nothing, even when tempted with shreds of chicken, and stopped growing. His hind end went to crumpling under him, and he walked like Bambi on ice. We thought he'd had a stroke, but he got better and worse, better and worse. Only when one of his litter-mates came down sick did we get a diagnosis: FIP. It's a mutation of corona virus. He's got the dry form and his sister has the wet form. He may last months, but it's not likely.
So now that you're bummed out with me, let's talk about my story. Dead Kitties Don't Purr, or Dead Kitties for short, has become a horribly ironic title.
Dead Kitties is the second act of Lesbians vs Zombies: The Musical Revue. In the lull following the first outbreak of the Z-virus, Camie's big tabby was taken for precautionary euthanasia and Camie herself was shipped off to college at the other end of the state, in what's supposed to be a safe area. Only nowhere is safe, and now she's hiding among strangers, dodging both the law and the z-things, without even her cat for comfort. What she does have is grad student Risa and a noisily affectionate new kitten. "Risa" of course means "laughter," the human version of purring. It wasn't meant to be the most subtle allusion in the story. Originally, Risa's little cat was modeled in every way on my little Kismet. Later, he got a coloration makeover in homage to TCT, antic creation of my buddy KevaD, who wrote The Zombie With Flowers in Her Hair. Ever read KevaD? You should. His story opened the first act of our revue. But TCT isn't in TZWFIHH. So let's get back to the zombies:
People who take their shots and do as they're told have nothing to fear, right?
The Rabies Z epidemic began and ended in Miami this past summer, didn't it? And that guy at the Jacksonville airport last week was just having an epileptic fit. No cause for alarm. Epilepsy always causes an eighteen-hour hazmat shutdown at a major airport.
So while my twin tours to flog her newest album, here I am, Camie Invisible, parked at this nice, safe college—as far as I can get from the infection and still pay in-state tuition. Only now, my studies have become focused on the fascinating Risa Ruiz. And she has eyes for me.
Isn't this the perfect time for the z-things to show up?
Random commenter wins an LvZ tee.