What, No Limosine???

Generally proud of my defensive instincts to greet any amount of Tragedy with an inherent sense of Comedy, I sat contemplatively on the couch in my Living Room, staring at my six foot long black Coffin Table.  (Oh, the irony!)

“Well, let’s see” I looked around for comfort, spying a cup of my deceased friend Laer’s cremains in a patina-covered treasure chest.  “Thanks for the good thoughts” I knuckle-bumped the urn; still uncertain as just how to face a “Hump Day” Wednesday and, well, get myself over “the hump”.

Still somewhat sleep-deprived, but having learned that my heroic feline sidekick Pretty was indeed back at the Pet Hospital (where she had been returned to after her less-than-pleasant adventure at a Crematory), I turned to Laer for a bit of advice.

“Apparently the Essence of Pretty is there, and they didn’t even bother to call me” I sighed.  “I had to call THEM!” I pouted ever-so bravely (ish).  “I need to bring her home, but it’s way too early for me to have my neighbor move her car, let me out, and begin to conceive of driving safely when I’ve only got four hours of sleep under my belt…  Should I call a friend?” I wondered to Laer, whose treasure chest seemed to eye me with all due maliciousness, had I ever dared to bother him with such an emotional task prior to his required eight hours of beauty sleep.

“You’re right of course” I acknowledged; knowing full well that if any of my friends were up so early they would be heading to a studio for work; and if not awake just yet, were grateful that they needn’t be!

“I suppose I could just walk down to the hospital and pick her up” I suggested logically.  “It’s less than a mile each way, and I could do that in like a half an hour or so…” I pondered; to which the Essence of Laer seemed to fret at the idea…

After all, I had no idea if Pretty’s cremains might be heavy in her urn; and did I really want to wobble down Santa Monica Boulevard with any “questionable” people in the wee hours of the morning; only to be possibly reigned into some sort of Police round-up official sting of what they might randomly determine to be “undesirables”?! 

Oh, good Heavens, NO!!! 

And shaking off all the ensuing terrifying mental visuals of being locked up in jail with transvestite prostitutes and drunken homeless people (bless their hearts!), I winced at Laer before eventually thanking him for his insight.

“Well…” I searched my pea-brain, “I guess I could just hop a bus” I scratched my chin, as thought-provoked people are apparently wont to do.

“Would YOU want to be brought home after your visit to a Crematory on a freakin’ BUS?” the Essence of Laer confronted me most rightfully.

OOF!

>>><<< 

As my parents took the time to “upload” many wonderful survival techniques in my pea-brain before I moved to a large city, I checked my purse for my Mom’s insistent requirement on keeping whatever cash on hand, as well as an emergency hidden twenty dollar bill.

And confident that I could retrieve my fearless feline sidekick, I filed a flight plan for my invisible plane, twirled three times to miraculously change into my Wonder Woman persona, and sat down with all proper heroic authority as I pulled out my cell phone and called a cab!

>>><<< 

“Where you go?” the driver (whose accent I couldn’t quite determine) asked me as I gave him the street address.  “You tell me where to turn, or I use GPS!” he literally barked at me.  (Oh, the irony of going to a Pet Hospital!)

“Okay, well then a left before this light” I recommended.  “Or, ya know, the next block past it” I whimpered as he barreled past the Hospital, my imaginary Super Hero cape whipping worriedly outside of the open passenger door window.

(WOW – Nothing like a Death Ride in a Taxi when you’re just trying to bring home your Best Friend’s cremains!)

“This is place?” the driver stared at me through the rear view mirror as he made three left turns, skirting into an empty parking spot and nearly bopping my head against the back of the front seat as he screeched the cab to a halt.

“Yes sir” I whimpered.  “I’m picking up my kitty’s ashes, and if you could stay here until I return, I need a simple round trip home.  Would you be so kind as to wait for me?” I queried weakly.

“No problem.  I wait.  Sorry for kitty.  But meter runs” he added brusquely, tapping his wristwatch.

>>><<< 

Whilst not exactly experiencing the ticker-tape parade that Pretty might have preferred in her honor to bring her home, at least my heroic sidekick and I made it safely back to the bat-cave together for only $20.00 (with a tip!).

>>><<< 

And unboxing her cremains which had been stuffed into all kinds of flaky Styrofoam (now THAT part WAS like a ticker-tape parade, what with all the mess!), I dug like a miner to retrieve my Best Friend in order to place her cremains in a spot of dignity in our home.

“What’s up with your name plate?” I wondered, staring at the walnut base supporting her elegant “Faithful Feline” sculpture.  “I KNOW I ordered cursive writing…” I pondered, staring at the pedestal, distraught that I’d somehow let Pretty down regarding her final resting place.

Now, certainly I could absolutely return the base and have the script changed with likely no additional cost to me:  but the more I looked at the Memorial, the more I decided that my sidekick had made the decision all by herself:

“Cursive, my furry little ass!” the Essence of Pretty gloated, apparently ‘infinitely’ pleased with her selection of a gold placard; her name boldly engraved in all capital letters.

Atta girl!!!

Wishing you all the VIP treatment today and every day,

~Penny

P.S. I know the sculpture looks white in the photo, and yes Pretty was an all black kitty, but in person her Memorial is a lovely grayish granite.  Besides... what Artist could TRULY capture the Essence of Pretty?!  :)