Well paint me a sculpture, isn’t that something. All my early morning bathing and primping turned out nothing but a medium-to-serious case of dandruff (for which I am told I must buy a new shampoo). What’s with the major influx of this gooey fragrant glop into my life?

And Lisa noticed none of it. Remember when I was on the brink of asking her on a date? Remember all the bumps and barricades the cosmos hurled upon me as I tried to coax my sweet assistant into my wings? Well the cosmos won.

I gave up. Screw it. I hate everybody anyway, so why shouldn’t I just go back to being lonesome and bitter (those are Dr. Lynn’s words, not mine) and hate Lisa too?

Or wait, I thought, as the sun was rising over my Alcatrazian nest this fine Sunday past. Do I really need to be lonesome? I asked myself. And by not being lonesome could I, perhaps, avoid being bitter? What I’m suggesting here is that I had an epiphany, and it had nothing to do with Binkus or Dr. Lynn or lavender essence shampoo. It sprang into my churning mind as a simple vision. Smaller than a bread box, cuter than a button. No guesses? Don’t bother, I’ll tell you. A kitten. I adopted a kitten.

Her name is Booby. Actually, her name is Booby Muffin but I can only guess that once we’ve become more acquainted that I’ll just call her Booby, or Boob, or Boo for short. Cute huh? She’s named after the Blue Footed Booby—my favorite feather-winged beast besides myself—a species that I had the pleasure of resting amongst one summer as they nested themselves somewhere on the Galapagos where I made a desperate trip, on winged tip, in search of a man named Swan, but also in search of myself. It was, for me, the equivalent of your clumsy backpack trip through Europe after college. During college? Whatever you selfish lump. This isn’t about you.

It’s about Boobies. No, actually, it’s about one Booby. That kitten, she’s got me wrapped around her finger already. She is a complimentary cotton candy in a place where you never suspected cotton candy might be. And it’s a giant cone, a spool?, whatever, and it’s fluffy and fun and it’s all yours and every time you look at it you giggle and let fly a jubilant smile, because you know that today is a good day. Are you following? This only works if you really like cotton candy. No? Yes I know that sugar rots the brain. Shut up and live a little malorkus.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I loved Booby from the moment I saw her. Ah yes, let’s get to the part where I adopted her, thus saving her from an awful indoor existence, scratching the carpet and eating little X-shaped pebbles of yuckfullness all through her sad life. Booby is not going to be covered up every day. No, she’s going to live out in the open, feel the ocean breeze, and bounce around the Isle of Alcatraz, helping me tend to my garden and throw rotten vegetables at the tourists and watch the sun set behind the bridge. Maybe even Booby can come to work with me… who knows, I do command a nice slice of respect around the office.

A visit to the SPCA, I knew, was going to be a bit confusing for all involved at first. You see, the people there are not used to… ah… not used to talking to a donkey with wings. They were very polite, but I must say that I explained myself one too many times. Each time I revealed a new level of domesticity (he speaks with words!, he’s got a credit card!) they grew both in astonishment and acceptance. Okay, they seemed to say after ten minutes, So a Donkey Pegasus wants to adopt a kitten and take it to live with him on Alcatraz in his giant nest at the top of a tree and when the Donkey Pegasus is at work at the advertising agency, the kitten can romp around the island. Okay, that sounds like… a good life for a cat. So I was in, and I must say that I used my animal instincts to zero right in on my little Booby.

“That one,” I told the staffwoman. “The tabby right there with the heart on her back.” Isn’t that precious? Booby Muffin has a little orange heart on her back, and little sprays of apricot here and there. Her ear tips are black and her nose is pink. Her paws are like deep grey ankle socks, and I swear I see the faintest little orange tiger stripe all around her torso. She’s going to be a gymnast and a hunter (it’s okay, I understand that she might take out a bird now and then) and she and I will be very happy together forever and ever amen.

So what’s the deal with the title of this blog? Ah yes, glad you asked. So I flew home with my new kitten’s neck scruff clutched gently in my jaw and when we arrived she fell into a fast peaceful sleep that lasted until nightfall. I fed her some shredded chicken and carrots and then we settled in to listen to the tree whistle with the wind. This morning I told her in no uncertain terms that she was not to leave the nest until I returned for lunch at noon. When I arrived she was hanging from a branch above the tree and I relented when she effectively suggested that the branch was a mere extension of the nest so she, in fact, had not left it. Little devil. My Booby is adorable and intelligent.

And here it is… the moment you’ve been waiting for. When I came back to the office from my noontime check on the kitten, Lisa noticed my serene smile and little piece of Booby’s white fur hanging on my wing. “New girlfriend DP?” Lisa asked, flirtish I do believe.

“More like a new daughter,” I told her. “I adopted a kitten.”

“A kitten! A little baby kitten? Oh my gosh Donkey Pegasus, you have to let me come over and play with her! What does she look like? What’s her name?”

It didn’t even occur to me. I am an accidental genius. How curious that Booby is ultimately what attracted Lisa to my nest. We have a play date set for this coming weekend, I do hope it’s sunny. I plan to make a giant delicious salad, and Lisa and I and the kitten can start behaving like the family that we’re destined to become.