Sunday
My rear tyre had been slashed, I'd suffered an accidental insult from a man with potential, and there was a dead cat swaddled in a pajama top and resting in a cardboard box in the garage waiting to be claimed or buried.
It started on Friday night. I'd had a lovely dinner with Sarah at Mekong Nua in Kingsland. The whole deep fried lemon infused snapper was divine darlings, and the usually sullen register attendant had even been charmed by me.
I'd worked that day out at the Factory doing the literacy tutoring classes, but I'd dressed to go from work to play and felt sexy-cute in my black dress and red wool coat.
As I slowed down to pull in my driveway at around 10pm, I saw what I first took to be a possum on the road. Other drivers sped over the little body (literally, not squashing him) and as I pulled carefully into the driveway I realised it was a cat.
It was starting to rain. Again. I felt a bit panicky. I got out of the car and ran onto the road, bending down to the stripey tabby. He was moving. Oh my god. He was fucking moving.
I scooped him up carefully in my arms, wondering if he might be horribly damaged underneath, but there was no sign of damage externally. I didn't know what to do. I ran down my driveway, saw that T wasn't home, ran back up the driveway and stood on the footpath wanting to scream 'help!'. Some people stopped. An American couple felt for his pulse, confirmed that he was dying, asked if I'd be okay, and went home to their 3 month old baby.
I stood there, holding the still convulsing, possum-like cat. He was lovely and large, a handsome boy. He was so warm. I walked back down my driveway and held him until he was still, asking the spirit of love and endless light to ease his passage into the next world. His eyes were wide open the whole time.
When he stopped moving, I tenderly placed him on top of my old washing hamper at the back door. I went inside and Tosca was meowing and demanding attention. She smelled death and ran back into the house.
I found an old pajama top, blue checked, and put it at the bottom of a cardboard box. I went back to 'Possum' and bright blood was bubbling from his little nose and leaking steadily from his mouth. I got a tissue, wiped it up as best I could, then got a tea towel and used that to put under his face as I lifted him into the box. I found it hard to imagine how someone could have had hit him and kept driving.
I arranged the tea towel so that it soaked up the blood as it poured from him. He must have been badly damaged internally, he wouldn't even have had time to be in pain. I stroked his black and greyish-brown fur. He was still so warm. I thought of my Nanna dying, and how I felt her passing spirit that night.
I did a prayer for him and put him in the garage. Tosca ran outside and looked down the driveway, towards the road. Martin the ginger tom stood further down the driveway like a sentinal. Street light bounced off wet surfaces.
I went to bed and bliss passed through me in waves. I closed my eyes and saw lights, and I knew that Possum was re-joined to the endless bliss of non-physical form. Tears leaked down my face, pretty feeling tears, the sort a blonde heroine might shed on a made for TV movie when she finds out she has a terminal disease.
I smiled into the dark and rainy night, Tosca safely tucked under my arm, the pretty tears finally ceasing.
The next morning I knocked on about six doors looking for the owner to no avail. I put up notes in the local dairy and bakery. I checked on Possum. He was cold now.
On Saturday T and I went to a party a friend of hers invited us to. It was in the middle of no-where, a beautiful country no-where in the dark cold night, but I was wearing my new red dress and felt sexy and warm. I was ovulating.
We were greeted by the lovely birthday lady, she was turning 50 and had decorated herself with lights and all manner of celebratory costume. The theme was Aroha, but people seem to have dressed in the widest interpretation of love possible ... among them were a 'Foot rot Flats' type who whipped up his swandri repeatedly at the end of the night to show off his skimpy shorts and well muscled thighs and someone who looked like a ship's captain but was supposed to be 'Sid Snot', a Kenny Everitt incarnation.
There were a lot of people, but the music wasn't too loud and everyone was talking, a wide range of ages and flavours. The friend of T's who invited us looked rather tasty, and I wondered if he was attracted to me. He's older than me, but only 11 years, and is a really nice guy.
We got out there quite late as it took longer to paint our nails and get ready than we expected, and once there, we drank our wine too fast. By around 1am T's friend invited us to have a drink because he lived in a granny type flat on the same property. Off we traipsed to admire his place, his view, and then all talk about anything that came to mind, including internet dating!
Word got back that someone had slashed the tyres of guests parked out on the road. I felt really uncomfortable and wanted to check my car immediately, but T and her friend (we'll call him Mr Sensitive) said my car would be fine. I couldn't relax properly. I stopped drinking because I knew I'd be driving home, and I guess my pre-menstrual agression was kicking in. I wanted to be in my own bed with the electric blanket on.
T had a young guy entertain and come onto her which she'd been enjoying, and when we left he looked a little crest-fallen. Mr Sensitive walked us to the car and it looked like my tyre was ok at first. T hopped into the car, and Mr S and I said goodbye and ended up sharing a nice kiss. Mmm, promising.
I started driving and realised that the tyre was right royally fucked. Police were there, lots of people milling around or changing their slashed tyres, and we went back to the party to get help.
T's young admirer was delighted, and I trailed after Mr Sensitive as he searched for his jack to change the car tyre. He reached out for me and kissed me again. It was nice, but again, a biter. What's going on with all this biting? Is it something older men do? I had to tell him it hurt and that I do bruise quite easily (the blood blister caused by the Mad Englishman took a week to go away!). He ceased biting and the kiss became more enjoyable.
We went into the garage and he looked for the jack in his car boot. Something about T came up, how great she is, and then Mr Sensitive said
"Yeah, she's really cool, if I was 20 years younger, I'd be chasing her alright!"
Oh wow.
"That's really appropriate" I replied, ice forming quickly, my horniness subsiding like a neap tide. He didn't notice.
We, minus the young admirer, went back to the car for the tyre changing process. It was good of him and I did appreciate it, but I could hardly wait to be home.
T went back to the party (to get another kiss I think). Mr Sensitive said I was a very sexy lady. Oh yawn, you basically just told me you'd fuck my friend if you thought you stood a chance in hell.
I told Mr Sensitive that his comment was really off. He didn't understand why. I tried to explain it. Imagine if you had a son (even though it's not a good comparison, I am only five years older than T!) and I said to you that I would go for him if I were younger?
In other words, what am I, chopped liver? You'll make do? He tried to explain or justify himself, but for me, it was over before it could ever begin. Fantasize about my friends by all means, but please do not tell me about it unless you want ice to form over my pussy.
Fuck it, my ex boyfriend is 24, steaming hot and a great kisser. If I want the best sex of my life, I can get it any time I want. (Ok, I didn't say those last things, that would have been rude, but I was thinking it.) I'm not saying that's what I'm doing. I'm just saying.
When the tyre was fixed and I got T back from the thin grasp of the boy attempting to lure her into garden or garage, we were on our way home. It was morning. I was ragingly pre-menstrual, and I knew I still had a dead kitty to deal with.
Monday:
Kitty is now packaged up ready for burial. I'm procrastinating. I don't want to put dirt on him really. It's cold and sunny today, I said I'd go into the office and now I don't remember why.
Got my Moon time though.
Spent most of yesterday with Andrew - we had brunch in Ponsonby, watched some new episodes of True Blood and had a glass of wine.
Life is wonderful.
Picture: Taken from Claire's place when I stayed with her and Donna in Titirangi.
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