Chicken legs

I am currently waiting for my delayed flight to London, bouncing my leg so hard the whole row of uncomfortable boarding area chairs is shaking. I’m amped up, man. AMPED. I’ve got a long flight ahead of me, with lots of excitement on the other end. But after a long parade of house guests – who, don’t mistake me, I loved having – last weekend’s domestic laziness was so nice. And it’s hard to leave San Francisco. Every time I do, I’m sure there’s going to be a devastating earthquake and I’ll be trapped away from it. So while I’m gone, earth, don’t quake. You’re on notice.

As an expert in the field of upsetting dreams, I of course had anxiety nightmares last night. The worst one was about Ezzie. Ezzie used to be a fat black and white cat. She is now, on doctor’s de-fattifying orders, a skinny cat who is half black and white and half pink, because she has licked off all the fur that she can reach. Her tongue is a weapon of destruction, constantly sandpapering her stubbly skin. It’s truly disgusting, and is either the product of allergy or nerves. We are employing various methods to try and treat it, but none have worked so far.

So. Last night I dreamed that Ezzie had licked all the way through her fur, through her skin, through her flesh, through her bones. Her hind legs – which in real life look like naked chicken wings – were actually cleanly gnawed through at the upper thigh. It may not be biologically accurate, but in the dream each thigh bone separated into two pieces and met again just above the knee, and since she had only gnawed the top portion, she was still able to walk. Her picked-over thigh bones clinked against each other like china as she moved. I could see the little circle of marrow in each bone, and wondered how she had been able to do it so neatly. It was deeply disturbing.

Bon voyage to me!