Monday, October 13, 2008
Nigel and The Blue Angels
We have been playing foster parents to Nigel, an old orange tabby, for a friend who was having San Francisco housing problems this year. It was supposed to be a one or two month affair, but month eleven is around the corner, and of course we've all fallen in love with each other. The first couple of months were rough since Nigel, after living in one home for 14 years, was on his third place in six months and was not a happy pussy, spending most of his time hiding in the closet.
I wondered how he would handle the annual invasion of The Blue Angels, the U.S. Navy death machines who seem to enjoy flying what feels like ten feet away from my living room windows for four straight days. We have an imploding national economy, a worldwide ecological nightmare is taking place because we're burning up hydrocarbon molecules as if there were literally no tomorrow, and there are U.S. military bases on just about every country on the planet. The fact that supposedly liberal San Francisco can't even shut down the grotesque and dangerous display of weaponry that is the Blue Angels really is profoundly depressing.
So Nigel and I took a nap on Saturday afternoon and pretended the sonic booms, car alarms, and rattling glass were not actually happening. It was lovely.