Fup. Store Cat.
The Trip to Kahani
Soon enough Wiggums asks about Penny and Bruno. The cousins have been waiting
all week to hear Fup's story.
"It's the boxes I remember most," Fup tells them. "We lived in a city of boxes.
And envelopes. We lived among scales and hampers and perpetually moist sponges.
And the postmaster, Mr. Warren, an otherwise stern man who wore pink prophylactics
on his thumb and forefinger pretty much any time he wasn't eating. The post
office was my first home. When it started getting cold that first autumn, Penny
and Bruno moved us into the back room.
"On Thanksgiving, Postmaster Warren went overnight to his sister's place in
Bangor and we had the place to ourselves.
"We goofed around all day, weighing ourselves individually and in various
combinations, browsing special stamp binders the postmaster never let us touch,
sitting on windowsills watching snow pile up outside until the cold glass fogged
with our breath.
"I woke sometime that night to discover Penny and Bruno by the windows, staring
out. At nothing in particular, I supposed, until I saw the moose.
"He was enormous. Bigger than the mail truck. The ice hanging from his belly
shone in the moonlight reflecting off the unplowed pavement so it seemed as
if he were encrusted in jewels. The wind moaned, and a small storm of flakes
shook around him.
"Penny and Bruno kept absolutely still. I'd have woken Ro and Clara but for
fear of making a sound. Up until this point we'd only seen pictures of moose
on postage stamps.
"Not even a minute passed before the moose seemed to catch a scent from down
by the frozen-over stream and broke a trail through the snow to investigate.
"I remember thinking: that's what a house does for you it keeps out
the moose and the cold."
That Cat That Changed My Life: 50 Cats Talk About How They Became Who They Are
by Bruce Eric Kaplan
"All these cats lead exciting and varied lives wholly independent of the human
race," notes the editor in his Introduction. Well, duh. Scant attention has
been paid to the role of community in modern cat culture, so what a relief that
here, finally, fifty articulate felines set the record straight. Funny, sad,
occasionally shocking, but never less than true, these brave monologues
reaffirm our interdependency in ways that choreographed public displays such as
Paws Across America never can.
Poems by Writers' Dogs
by Amy Hempel
In "Dog Kibble," Tasha Baxter's verse exhibits a brutal economy of
words: "Life is never meaningless," her villanelle announces, "there is
always food." Here and throughout this collection these authors demand
your attention, as if to bark, "You can send me to my room for yelling
at the neighbors but you cannot silence what woofs in my heart!" Among
the selections nominated for Best
American Writing by Pets 2000 are Bob Barker Barry's sordid and hilarious
hallucinogenic escapades with Lynda; a tragic, posthumous prose poem by
Marrow Irving; and Sadie Louise Lamott's "Spoon River Sadie Louise," a
wildly metered exploration of the cross-cultural dynamics within a
household occupied by dogs, cats, birds, and small children. The sheer
intellect of these collected pieces will renew your faith in dogs.
Is Your Cat Too Fat?
by Bronwen Meredith
Too fat for what? And what business is it of this Meredith person's
anyway? Bronwen sounds like the kind of lady I wouldn't like at all.