Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Wednesday, Dec. 07, 2005 - 11:02 p.m.

So, I go to the big Van Nuys post office after work tonight, because it's open till 8, and I have to mail an order. So I get in line behind a lady just slightly shorter than me and built slenderly, and she is carring this rather large Pedigree brand dogfood duffle bag that looks pretty much like the bright yellow label on a can of Pedigree. And in front of her are two rather conservatively-dressed women, which figures, because it turns out they are elementary school teachers. Hence, their similarity to Mrs. Schroeder, the intolerant nazi who was my kindergarten teacher at St. Paul's Lutheran Elementary, in McAllen, Texas. Unlike Mrs. Schroeder, however, they are very nice, friendly women, and they are trying to figure out whether to mail a package to the California Board of Education certified mail or just return receipt requested. To which the woman directly in front of me finally says, rather sharply, "Chill out. Chill out." Which makes me laugh, for some reason, and when she turns to look at me, she looks distinctly unhappy that I have somehow managed to find humour in the situation. I smile at her and look away.

So we move up a little, and finally I am able to put my box down on the counter behind this rather bitter little woman, who has set her large and vibrant tote down on the narrow little counter we are lined up along, and as we have now been standing there a while, I absentmindedly begin tapping my fingers against the end of my box. Which earns me a look from the Pedigree lady.

Oh, I think. "I'm sorry," I say, and stop tapping.

She frowns and turns back away.

I have time to basically think Oops before she turns back around and says to me, "I thought you were my cat."

O-kayyy.

"I have 12, 12 cats--well, 13, including Trudy, who they killed." And as she says the name Trudy, she does this bizarrely childlike thing where she sort of tucks her head down into the collar of her jacket and smiles like a little girl.

I--what??? And who is they?

'Oh. I'm sorry.' ::appropriate sad face::

She turns around again.

What the hell was that about?

And she turns back. "They killed all my cats. The city killed all my cats. They just decided to kill all my cats." Which she says loudly and rather forcefully and with an expression bordering on rage, until the end of it, at which point she once again executed that bizarrely childlike smile and head-ducking thing.

I fight the urge to step backward or make any sudden moves.

Quick, find a response. Find a response??? Are you kidding me, find a response? What the hell fucking kind of response do you make to "the city just decided to kill all my cats"???

'I'm sorry.'

She didn't turn around again. She just stood there looking at me.

Oh shit. That wasn't the right response. Think, damn it, think. What the hell is the appropriate response?

'Were they outside cats?'

(Shut up; YOU do better)

"No, they were inside cats." Smile, head duck. "They lived inside my trailer house with me." Smile, head duck. "My trailer house THAT THE MEXICANS STOLE FROM ME!!!" And the seething rage returns.

Uhhhhhh....

It is right about this time that I realize she smells of cat pee.

She turns back around again, and I shoot the guy behind me my very best sideways, Ferris Buehller Red-headed Kid What-the-hell-is-Ed-Rooney-doing-on-my-bus look, and he rather blandly looks back at me like, 'hey, you're the one standing next to the freak,' and I spent the remainder of my time behind her praying she wouldn't talk to me again and willing the postal employees to hurry the hell up, for crying out loud. And when she finally got called to a window, I looked at the guy behind me and said, because it's perfectly true, "They always talk to me." And it turns out he's Polish, and he goes, "I don't understand." So I clarify, "the crazy people always talk to me," and he says sympathetically and in an adorable Polish accent (he was cute, too), "I vas just hoppy you vere stonding een front ov me so eet vas not me."

Which made me laugh, and then I got called to the window and told him goodnight, which he returned, and that's all there is to this story, but it does make me wonder, why do so many insane people own a lot of cats?

Peace out,
Katie

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