It’s only taken me two straight weeks of therapy intensives with Dr. Lynn to get me to the point where I can talk about it. Oh yes, it’s been a long, difficult process through which Lynn and Booby Muffin, apparently the only two females that I can trust, stroked my mane and scratched my ears and looked me square in the eyes and said, “Goddammit Donkey Pegasus, pick yourself up off my new Indonesian wool ceremonial chastity rug and get over it!” (That was Dr. Lynn who said that. Booby Muffin thinks wool is itchy.)

Lisa, she-devil kitten lover. Lisa, oh I can’t wait to come to your nest Donkey Pegasus! Lisa, the one who I thought, really thought, might be the one. Turns out Booby Muffin’s not the only kitty-kat that Lisa’s been petting.

Friends, emotional counselors, Kerstin (my #1 fan somewhere in Oregon): here’s how it went down.

Remember how I was tidying up my nest, preparing for Lisa’s Saturday visit to my Alcatrazian nest of paradise high atop The Rock? Remember how I went to IKEA in loving preparation so my little turtle dove Lisa might have been more comfortable, felt more… oh, I don’t… at home?

It was the Friday before and Barney, my gouty nightwatchman pal, harnessed me into his homegrown shopping sleigh and I took flight, clumsy at first I admit, the lawnmower bucket bungee cord rig twirling unsteady behind me. But soon, I was prancing through the air, over the Bay Bridge, my sleigh steadied by my expert flightsmanship. (Shut up, it is too a word.) And there, there it was, like a giant yellow beacon calling me home, IKEA.

I landed in a vacant patch of parking lot with a screech of metal, stowed my rig behind a bush, and walked inside.

Did you know IKEA sells something called applecaka? Get it? Apple-caka. Caca? I knew it! You know that book, Everybody Poops? Every time I see that book I say, “Apples poop?” and laugh and hoot and elbow the people standing next to me. Of course apples don’t poop, that’s the joke you imbecile! But that evening, the bay mist still dewy on my coat as I stood before the IKEA snack bar, I wasn’t so sure anymore. Hold on, I told myself. Humans eat apples and poop. Humans eat animals and poop. Apples poop. So what do apples eat? Aaaah! I jetted away from that scene fast.  Those Swedes are sickos and I guess apples are sickos too. Funny though, I saw some fat kid taking out a big slice of applecaca and it looked like a slice of cake.  Applecaca… it’s a crazy world. But I digress.

I packed the following purchases into my rig:

1 Torenia quilt cover and pillowcases - $12.99
1 Gosa Blinka ergonomic pillow - $19.00 (neck issues)
1 Bellinge rug (nice colors) - $19.99
4 Pralin drinking glasses (nice wide bowl, I can lap the water with my tongue if I’m careful) - $12.99
2 Felicia throws (in case she got chilly) - $13.99

$78.96 I spent on home improvement.$78.96 so LISA would be comfortable. Saturday came and Booby Muffin and I trotted down to my vegetable garden to pick some fresh peppers and watercress for a little salad I was planning on putting together. Humans like dressing on their salads, so I even picked up a bottle of Annie’s Green Goddess dressing, which is yummy, but must be refrigerated after use so it’s down in my crab-pot cooler  in the icy bay. Anyhow, Lisa came indeed. I heard her sweet little voice calling for me Donnnkkey Pegasusss! Donnnkkey Pegasusss we’re heeere!

We? We’re here? My immediate thought: multiple personality disorder. And it would have been better! I tell you, it would have been better than this.

I peered over the side of my nest, Booby Muffin excited to see Lisa given all that she’d heard about her. Lisa stood there looking up, looking lovely, wearing a little pink spaghetti strap dress and holding hands with some woman who looked like a man. This dudette was wearing some strange mechanic’s outfit and was built like a brick shit house, no doubt.

“Whoja got down there with ya Lisa?” I asked her.

“Oh, DP, hope you don’t mind, I brought my new girlfriend Perry. So should we come up?”

Girlfriend? Perry? Excuse me? Lesbian? Lisa’s a lesbian?

“Uhhhhh,” I seemed to be saying.

“DP, can we even get up there?” she asked, looking for a ladder or an elevator I suppose. “You might have to bring that little kitty down here. What’s her name again? Muffin?”

“Uhhhoohhough,” She didn’t even remember Booby Muffin’s name. And you’d think Lesbian Lisa would remember the name Booby! I mean, come on.

“Our tour starts in ten minutes DP, so come on, bring her down! Perry loves kitties.”

Oh, I bet she does…

I bit Booby Muffin by the scruff of her little disappointed neck. To be honest, I’d began referring to Lisa as your new mommy when talking to Booby Muffin. BM’s confusion was palpable, as was mine I’m sure. I flew down to meet them. Perry gave me a thrice over. What’s the matter Perry? I wanted to say, Haven’t you ever seen a Donkey Pegasus? I’ve never seen a love-stealing lesbian mechanic so there!

I stood there like a dumb tree stump while Lisa and Perry cooed and purred and petted Booby Muffin. When a large group of camera-toting tourists came shuffling by, Lisa gave me a stiff hug and said, “Thanks so much for showing us your kitty DP, she’s a real cutie.” Perry gave me a grunt and turned to walk away.

And then they were off… up the hill, to see the canons, to see the lockdown, to see where the Birdman of Alcatraz slept. And up in my nest the salad sat wilting, just like the promise of a romance with Lisa.