Prochain Episode

(Soundtrack: Fleetwood Mac– Tusk)

I’m not a moper by disposition. What I am is a worrier. Oh, I’m not gonna try to tell you that there hasn’t been a lot of tearful reminiscence and perusal of photo albums around this place for the past couple of days–that was inevitable, given the Husk’s uniqueness and (pantomime) quotability–but the most pronounced effect of this sad event has been an escalation of the “cat health terror level”…

Don’t get me wrong, I know I was lucky to have the Husk for almost eleven years, but that doesn’t change the fact that I wish his stay had been much, much longer… And the same goes for my other two feline companions. Simpson is almost ten. Dashiell will be turning nine on April 20th. This numbers game is bad for my head–and even worse for their peace of mind. Since Wednesday, I find I’ve been paying a morbid amount of attention to every move these guys make. These aren’t the “standoffish” cats of satire and cartoon fame–they follow us around anyway, and they respond promptly to my whistle. However, they do require some privacy, and I haven’t really allowed them any. Let’s go Simpson. Eat those pellets! Keep that strength up. Not happy with that water I put out half an hour ago Dash? Wait right there–I’ll get the Brita! Okay, now let’s run around, just to prove we’re all vibrant!

I think we reached some kind of breaking point this morning when Simpson emerged from the litterbox and found me waiting with a bath towel and some shaving supplies…

We’ll be okay. Don’t worry. My seminar paper is coming due and the cats will get some breathing room.

I’ve got big plans for the blog too–I’m stalled at Cerebus #49 (it seems I’m missing more issues than I thought), so I’ll have to hold off on Sim’s opus for a while; in the meantime, I’m going to be writing on the wonderful layers of narrative built (by the likes of Englehart, Stern & Rogers, and Englehart again) upon the FF’s original visit to Rama-Tut’s Egypt in FF #19, the Gwen Stacy clone saga, Roy Thomas’ Dr. Strange, Sorceror Supreme, Gruenwald’s Squadron Supreme (hopefully The Forager will beat me to this one and we can have a great discussion about it!), Miller’s Dark Knight Strikes Again, Clowes’ Ghost World, and maybe Ware’s Jimmy Corrigan too… We’ve got the last three in stock at the store–which I’m at liberty to borrow from. No Cerebus unfortunately… no Teratoid Heights… and, despite my altruistic insistence (I have #1-26 already) that it would sell like hotcakes–no Animal Man either! I hope I can convince the buyer to order The Filth, at least–I certainly do want to own that in TPB, but I don’t want to wait to read it until I can afford to buy it, ’cause that’ll be a while…

Okay. Time to get ready for work. I want to thank all of you who took the time to express your condolences to us. I know there are a lot of bad things going on in the world, but, as far as I’m concerned, there are no small tragedies, and this pain is real. Luckily, so is your kindness.

Good afternoon friends!


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