Sam Nixon / Colorado Daily
I’m feeling a little constricted by the title of this column. Does talking about cats fall under the umbrella of “nerdy” activity? Has the cultural day in the sun ended for pictures of felines in silly situations? I’m not as up on all this shit as I used to be. Maybe I should get Snapchat. DJ Khaled is as likely to hold the key to my recapturing of cultural relevance as he is to anything else.
Back to cats. I woke up at 4 this morning to feed a small portion of antihistamines to mine. He didn’t buy into the yogurt/offbrand Benadryl concoction; either he caught on to the extra ingredients or is just over vanilla as a flavor.
There’s a reason behind the attempted doping. As I mentioned in a column last week, I’m bouncing off to an island in the Pacific with the Peace Corps in a few weeks, and Mr. Kitty lacks the civic engagement experience and qualifying placement on the evolutionary tree (human!) to join me. So he’s retiring to Florida to stay with family until I get back. He’s never been on a plane before, and I anticipated advanced levels of shit-fittery ahead of the flight. Thus, my cat-drugging plan took shape.
Those fears were unfounded. I’m writing this on the plane heading east, and the little guy has slept through the whole thing with only a brief stint of loudly dry-humping his favorite stuffed beaver toy, which is totally a pre-existing fetish of his and not brought on by travel. (Though I wonder if there are particular kinks that, like diarrhea, crop up the first few weeks in a new country. Traveler’s sadomasochism? Seems plausible.)
So now that I’ve sorted out a new home for the things I can’t take with me, I’ve got to reason what does make the trip. Aside from the obvious (electric toothbrush, several boxes of Malt O’ Meal, large bronzed bust of Abraham Lincoln), others who’ve served have told me to start building up a solid media base to fall back on when I need a break from the cultural gap.
As far as movies and music go, I don’t have much to haul along with me. I’ve streamed most everything for the past several years, so the pickings are slimmed down to a DVD copy of “Joe’s Apartment” (that movie with the singing roaches and Vern from “Stand By Me”) and a worn-out and duct-taped VHS cassette of “Home Alone 2.” Might have to invest in more current offerings once I watch Kevin McAllister foil those kooky Wet Bandits three or four more times.
I don’t have a desert island list of media that I couldnt live without, and I think that’s probably for the best. I’ve always found comfort in hearing “you can’t take it with you,” and facing the reality of it leaves me with a weird mix of solace and excitement. Going into my own personal unknown feels a slight bit more genuine knowing I won’t be bringing any Pokémon games along. Here’s hoping I don’t regret those words.
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