The H Is O, But My P is S*
*The Heat is On, but my Puma is Sick.
Well, the management company finally saw its way round to fixing the boiler yesterday, so I no longer have to hug the space heater in my bedroom for warmth. The bad news is that, due to the prolonged cold snap, my puma is now sick. Did I forget to mention that I own a puma? My bad. It’s just that, growing up, all of my friends had pumas so I sometimes forget that not everyone was lucky enough to have one. So, yeah, I have a puma. His name is Galoshes.
Anyway, I came home yesterday afternoon to find that Galoshes had developed a slight cold. I knew something was wrong as soon as I opened the door and he failed to greet me with his customary tail-wagging and sloppy puma kisses. “Galoshes!” I called out. “Where are you?” I went about searching for him, which took a good fifteen minutes since there are at least forty rooms in my apartment(I’ve never bothered to count.)
I finally found him in my hat closet, sprawled out on the leather floor with that hangdog look in his eyes. “Galoshes,” I said, “Is something wrong?” “Yes,” he replied in that rich baritone voice of his, “I do believe I have developed a cold.” “Poor Galoshes, let’s get you some soup,” I said in a reassuring voice.
I commissioned this portrait of Galoshes for his birthday last year.
Galoshes and I made our way to the kitchen, where I heated him up some black bean soup I had made the night before. “Now, don’t you feel better?” I asked him. “A little bit,” he said in between greedy laps of soup. Then we smoked a joint and watched The Spy Who Loved Me on AMC. It was dope.
I did mention that my puma can talk, didn’t I?
