I Miss My Cat

I miss that little shit. I miss him getting into his ultra predatory moods and attacking my ankles and wrists like a real bastard! I hate that the scabs where he shred my skin are starting to disappear. I miss him waking me up at 3 in the morning, when he would jump on my chest and start kneading my throat, purring, eyes closed. I think he may have been sleep walking, now that I think about it. I miss the smell of his stupid breath as he did so. I even miss cleaning his piss and shit. I want to hug the little guy so much, even though I know he'd fight it after a few seconds, if even that! I miss home.

My name is Inigo Montoya; you gave me a bath, prepare to die.

In other news, being a vegetarian in Mexico turns you into THAT ONE guy. You know, the obnoxious asshole at any given restaurant giving the wait staff ridiculous instructions on how he wants his food. It's never the way it is on the menu. I'm that guy now. Hooter's for lunch for Arturo's birthday, I ordered the "Chicken Cesar Salad"... hold the chicken. Still, the six of us in attendance had a great time. It's never not a great time when Rafa is in form and telling stories. Also, this happened:

Crowded bus, crowded bus on the way home. Too much going on, too many people glued to their glowing phone screens, too many people crowding me, too many people looking defeated, too many people keeping on anyway, too many smells, too many...and then it happened - anxiety paid me a visit. It took everything I had to remember to keep breathing. It took everything I had to not pass out. It took everything I had and I miss my cat.