It pains me to say this, but Operation M.E.O.W. (“My dearest Ellen, you Owe me nothing, but won’t you please send me a cat With short hair?”) must be re-instated. Our cat, Goody, has left us for good. Last month’s fires turned all of Southern California upside down and she was no exception, I guess. Because when we were finally able to crack open a window, Goody wriggled all four legs out and never returned.
I had resigned myself to the fact that perhaps I had done something so terrible in life, leaving me undeserving of a fluffy friend. A being in my own house that didn’t spill entire jugs of milk my beautiful wood floor. Or a back to scratch that didn’t have freckles or permanent marker all over it. Or even a whisker to tickle whose face wasn’t going through a mid-life crisis.
But I can’t ignore the fact that my life has gone to pot without a cat, leading me to believe that I should get another one in order to resume some sort of order in my house. Because the day after Goody escaped, my five-year-old learned how to burp on command (and hasn’t stopped.) My youngest son has decided that he wants to be a “princess” when he grows up (and I’ve got Cinderella pull-ups to prove it.) And my husband has grown a goatee without the ‘t’ (making it, what, a goat?). Anyway, ba-a-a-d choice.
But it just so happens that I will be visiting Ellen on Thursday as part of her studio audience. Which, I figure, has to be a sign. So I beg you to join me in my effort to convince her to give me a cat via emails, letters, telepathy…. Which is the only way my husband will allow me to have another one, by the way, because he knows how much I love Ellen and how I’d leave him if he ever did anything to make her angry.
ME-OW, lamb chop.
www.ellentv.com
