blank'/> The Libe ob Don Estorbo de la Bodega Dominicana: 2011

Monday, December 26, 2011


 Ees carnspeeracy.

Por many weeghs now...mornths? - the Wooman has been gebeen' me deleecious snag twice a day. Fors' I hear raddleraddle, an' I corm ronneen'. Then I hear craghlecraghle, an' she prepares the tread. Then she geebs the tread to me. Ees ber' goo', como teghsture ob peanod botthair weeth flabour ob cheecken.

Then the Wooman leab. Weeth suitcases. Ees serioos.

The Smoothman stay. Maybe she no ligh heem and me no more? We are lefd behine'. Like dargs by the side ob the road. Dargs - she no need them.

Bod I heear raddleraddle lighe usual. Craghlecraghle. The Smoothman geebs me my tread. Bod the shape ees deefferen'. Was roun', now eed is pentogram. I chew, sospicious. I tasde sometheen' terreeble. I SPEET!

Ees forgheen' peell.  Eenside tread. Heedden.

Ees decepcion. Corber orp.A beil ob ontruth.

Now I mos' as' myselb. Ebery tread has been a lie?

Whadebber. Now I know.

When een doubt: Speet.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

My geeft

Arribed een a barx frarm Meester Frank. My own personal No Dargs sign. Kaka. I pud eed arn the terrace een case ob roofdarg. You nebber know. You wan' worn, you talgh to Senor Frank.

Pee Ess. The Wooman ees leabeen' me y the Smoothman. I doan' know why. I doan' know eef she corm bag. Maybe we wor bad. She say' my howleen' por agua NOW ees dribeen' hor loco. She taghe hor labtarp weeth hor y I mos' lorn to use the monster belongeen' to the Smoothman. Ees carmpleecaded. Bod ad las' I weell hab a reeal photographer to taghe my peectures. No more ob thees amateur sheet. OKOK she's OK. Bod the Smoothman ees BREELEAND. He capture my essence.

PeePee Ess: She clean' the terrace!!!!!! Now I know she read my blarg! Jaaaaajajajajajaja.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

The truth weell sed you free

You know The Woman has a blarg, yes? I had a blarg fors'. Then she carpied me. Ees my idea. Y hor blarg ees abou' hor "byoodeful garden". Yes? She wride abou the blueberries, the strawberries, the feeg, the rose' flowers...muchas flores blablabla. She taghe peecture ob preedy terrace, the terrace becorm famous, eed go' arn corber ob booghs?

Well, eed's time to see the real peecture:

Thees ees how the garden loogh'! Hello? Ees embarrasseen'. She ees porpotradeen' an ontruth. Dios mio, how she ged away weeth eed por so larng I doan' know.

So I say: Clean the terrace, Wooman. Because I blosh por you. I blosh. Onder my forr, my skeen ees peenk.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Estorbo's fear

Dios mio. I yam reech! We can pay por more blord tesd, y bed veesseet (eeeeeeeep), y peells, y parckets...

I yam so lorcky to hab frien's who are sendeen' me geefts. I cannard beliebe eed. The Wooman weell helb me paw-wride the cards to say gracias, muchas, muchas gracias. Ebery leedle beed helbs. The beeg beets helb, too! I promeese to pose' more to try an' be an entertaineen' cad.

So I though' I woul' star' by telleen' you sormtheen' you doan' know abou' me.

My Fear......ob Death.

Translation por yoomans een parentheses (beeg wor' yes? I know I yam so breellian'. Gracias).

1. The Blag Death (fly screen door. I bang my forgheen' head een the sommhair when eed ees close'! I yompa frarm the roop to the table to the terrace to the floor to the BAM!: the b l a g   d e a t h)

2. The Whide Death (mosquito ned ober bed. I HADE eed! ees eenbeeseeble y I ged tangle' y smothair to death)

3. The Sorckeen' Death  (forgheen' bacuum cleanhair. I ron, I ron)

4. The Howleen' Death (forgheen' Eentercorm. Dios mio. I hide een the Hole)

5. The Weendy Death (the fan, een Sommhair, eed maghe me go flad. I hade eed)

6. The Cageen' Death (the onnatracteeb grey barx. Bad treep. Berber' bad treep)

7. The Seengeen' Death (the Wooman. Ees terreeble. Hords my years)

Nehghs time: The Boid.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

The carst ob leebeen'...


The Wooman say, Estorbo? We need to talgh.

I say, Whad? You gonna braghe orp weeth me? You can't! I yam your cad. Eed's por libe! Theeck y theen!

She say, No, Estorbo, eed's abou' money. Moolah. Dineros. $$$'s. Een shord, she say, you hab carst ors a lard of morney thees year (y nebbermine' abou' before!) an' you need to carntreebude sormtheen' to the keetty [man, I hade pons]. Doan' ged me wrong she say, as tears started to feell my ojos, I lorb you, we l...

You do???? You lorb me???? I eenterropted.

Sí , I mean, yes, we lorb you cad. Een fagdh I lorb you so moch I doan' know how I weell eber leab weethoud you.

Really? I as' yos sayeen' thad, righ'?

No, Estorbo, I mean eed, she say. You are the bes'.

Prrrrrrrrrr (I can' helb myself. I was theenkeen' I yam fire' por bad behabiour. Too moch beggeen' por agua, too morch blag forr, too morch boice, eep etc.)

Bagh to the morney, she say.

Sheet, I say, I though' you porged thad.

No, say the Wooman. Onportunadely nard.

So she essplains to me that ebery mornth my typhoid peells are carsteen': $39.35
My deeleecious peell parckeds por hideen' the peells:$10 a mornth

Ees equal': $49.95  a mornth.

Waid! I say. I yab ron oud ob toes to do the math!

She go arn:

Eef eenternal medeeceene consoltation: $140.00.
Eef blordtesd to measure T-lebels, eed ees $100 frarm specialees' who keess me arn head. I lighe heem.
Eef blord pressure, ees $52.50.
Eef urine, ees $40 (onless the Wooman cadge my pee goo' ad home).

So. She wan's me to helb. WhadammaIgonnado? I yam a cad!!!


So thees ees what I do por now:

I put...smallberbersmallsmallsmallboice...PayPal 'Donate' borton on the righ' side ob blarg. See, eed's there. Blosh.

Ees so embarasseen'. Bod I doan' know how to worgh por dineros. I yab no opposable thormbs.

The Wooman says, Cad?

I say: Si?!

She says, Cad! Eef you esspeghd yoomans to donade their hard-orn' dineros to you, you bedhair peeck orp the pace ob your poseteen'. Starp sleebeen' so morch an' star' bein' fonny!

OK. I say. I try. Bod fors' you hab to ged arf the forgheen' carmpudehair  y geeb a cad a chance to orn his keeb!

OK, she say: I try. I try. We try togethair.

So. Maybe eed ees beeg flarp. Maybe I meessaprobriade fonds y becorm a corropd fad cad, eep! Maybe nard. Ees beeg change. Ees change.

I say, I preefhair dayeen, dayoud.

The Wooman say, I know. Me too. Bod you godda roll weeth the ponches.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Mano a mano

Papá The Smoothman says, I gard your bag, keeddy, doan' worree: sleeb.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

I yam here!

I yam alibe!!! I wan' to cadge thees rumor thad I yam arn my las' legs!!! I yam nard arn my las' legs. I yab four legs y I am standeen' arn every worn ob them. Dios mio, the drama. A cad loses hees breakfas' an' all hell breaghs lose. You hear the funeral march, you hire the marcheen' band frarm New Orleans, theese beeg blag cads weeth tubas y trarmbones y beeg appetides (they ead all my yogur') show orp y ask me, Where ees the casket??? WTF? I yam fine! Stupeed wooman. Oh Estorbo, he ees dyeen'...whad weell I do weethoud heem, my forry frien'. ...I am FINE. F.i.n.e.

The roop looghs lighe sheet, Wooman, you need to tidy eed orp.

Can you see me now?

Wha' abou' now? Yes? How do I loogh? I tell you: nard dead. Dead cads doan' walkgh y ron arn the roop. Seeck cads do nard worgh por SETI.

Can you see me now?

(Because I can see you...)

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Slideshow ob me!

Eef you doan' hab northeen bedhair to do, here are a meellion peectures ob me, starteen' een 2006, when the Wooman started to taghe peecture weeth deegeetal...I yam an interesteen' cad, yes? I yam nard feelleen' so good today, so the Wooman say we shoul' loogh ad all the time we hab together, goo' an' bad. You weell see the peectures ob me een clothes: thees is 2009 y 2010, when I was leecky-leecky. You weell see peec ob me weeth beeg eyes, when I was drorged frarm unblarckeen' ad the ved. You weell see me arn the roop, arn the terrace, een weenter y sommer... I yam everywhere, heear me roar: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

Wednesday, November 9, 2011


Whad? You're keeddeen'...Maghe the bed?




Sunday, November 6, 2011

Cad seedhair poseetion has been feelled

Meester John Rosh frarm Massachusetts weell be dribeen' to Nuevo York to looogh after me while the Wooman y Smoothman ride the Adeerondag train aaaaall the way to Montreal, habandoneen' me to my fade

Meester Rosh ees blarg reeadhair y say he has bacation days due so he corm to the seedy two days orly, meed the yoomans, y then we pardy por four days. I hope he doan' wear Teemberlan' boods or I hide. The Wooman say he ees nard carnstroction worghair; ees scientees'. 

He maghe essperimends weeth me, smallboice? 

No! I know! We can blow orp the forgheen' squeerel!!! 


Meester Rosh you breeng your equeepmen', yes? I know how to torn arn the gas...

Friday, November 4, 2011

My treep bag to the ved

See, here I yam a happy cad. No worries. Lookeen' ad the Wooman, who ees smileen' ad me. I know nartheen'.

Then I hear eed! The soun' ob the onnattracteeb grey barx!! I ron. I hide een the cornhair! She ees careful y cannard grab me or she breaks all the glasses arn the dreenks tray.

 Bod I maghe taghteecal meestaghee y leab thees safe place y try the order corner by the freedge.

She cadge me.


She carry me down' Congress Stree', righ' on Cour', lefd down forgheen' Warren. Bompa bompa bompa. I see people. Traffeec. Dargs. 

We ged to the ved ad v.e.r.g. Veterinary Emergencia Referral Group. Ees where my Eenternal Medeeceene Specialeest leebs. Fors' we waid een the waideen' room. I as' to ged oud ob the barx y for the fors' time I waid arn the Wooman's lab.

Then we wade een Dr Slade's room. Again I waid arn the lab. They weigh me. I yam orp worn poun', I yam now 17.9 poun's. I yam seengeen' y growleen' all the time. The fors' Dr whad examine me before Dr Slade says I yam a Panther. Damn righ', I growl. I theen' she ees a leeddle scare' por me.

I geeb them more blord. Also pee. The Wooman FORGARD to taghe my pee sample. Sorb hor righ' eed cost $68 yos to esstraghd my pee! Ees terrible.

Then we go home. More peells, y I smell como robbeen' alcohol. Ad home the Woooman wibe my baglegs weeth wed towel to taghe away the vedsmell.

Today the ved call the Wooman. My T-4 (thyroxine, ees hormone I produce too moch) lebel ees down frarm crazy T-19 to T4.5. The ved wan' eed more low so he wan' I taghe more peel.

Whadebber. As long as I doan' hab to go bag.

Dios mio.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

So tire'

Por Halloween' I yab a dreenk. Then I go the the parade een the East Billayge.

Then I corm home y I pass oud.

Por 24 hours.

Wooman? Go. A. Way.

I can steel see you. 

Saturday, October 29, 2011


There ees a RAD arn the terrace! Open the forgheen' fly screen!!!!

Sheet! Ees nard  a rad. Ees SQUEEREL!

Blag lighe me. Whadtheforgue?

I weell chase you to the en's ob the orth.

I weell nebber sorrender.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Cad seeder por Thanksgeebeen'

I yam lookeen' por high maintenance-ready cad seeder frarm Thorsday on Thanksgeebeen' (24th) to Sonday 27th. The Wooman y the Smoothman wan' to go to Montreal. Eef we no fine' the righ' person, the Wooman weell stay to loogh after me. She ees ber' fossy.

Een retorn you ged free threenigh'sfourdays weeth me een Brookleen. Lorcky you. You feed me peell two times a day (ees easy, een tread), you clean my leeder manymany times - I deman' clean leeder. Y eef I throw orp (maybe nard), you clean! Also eef I cry, you geeb me water een bath. We chegh the references berber' careful.

The Wooman says I no wrode goo' carpy por adbertisemen'. I say thees ees my blarg.

GQ magazeen yos vode Brookleen coolest seedy arn planet. Why? Because they hab been asleeb por the las' ten years, seriously. Eed's nard a seedy. Ees a Borough. Blablabla

Bod anyway they mees the poin' Ees the coolest because why?

Because eed ees the home ob Don Estorbo de la Bodega Dominicaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Friday, October 21, 2011


Hola. Ee's me.

Ee's been a rorf corpla weeghs. Si, I steel go the the roop. Bod the food. I doan' onnerestan' myselb. I yam hongree, I go to the bowl, I see pelleds, dayeen, dayoud. I theenk: I yam SEECK OB THEES FORGHEEEN PELLEDS DAYEEN DAYOUD.

So I eegnore.

I loogh orp ad the Wooman weeth preedy eyes (my eyes nard the Wooman's eyes) y say...eep? Prrrrr?

She geeb eberyday sorm pieces ob charped organeec cheecken with sorm small negbones, weeth cheecken leeber, ees ber' good. Smallportion.  Bod I refuse my pelleds, essepd maybe 12. So yesserday she she go oud again. She corm bag weeth new bag. I read: Por Fossy Cads.



Ees Royal Canin. She geeb me a few, says she cannard sweetch me fas'. I say, Sweetch my now, beetch*! No! She say, No. You ged the squeets eef we go too fas'.

So now I ged some pequeno amoun' ob Royal Canin pelleds weeth the dayeen dayoud. I ged raw organic cheecken. I ged small-leeck yogur' y I steel dreenk my meelk. She say she ees goeen' crazee. She say thees is "carmplicaded."

*Meanwhile my temphair has change'. I yam soooooo frien'ly. No more bide, no more scratch. No more heetteen' the yoomans. No more sweareen'. I only swear here to remembhair my ole' libe.I yam friendly.

I seed een the bath many times, near the water, I howl por the yoomans to keep the water lebel where I can see eed. I also dreenk oud ob a beeg whide bowl, mucho. I feel hongree, bod I doan' ead morch.

Y tonigh' I threw orp, fors' time een two weeghs.  I yam tagheen' the peel (methimazole) now essactly two weeghs, een peel parcket.

She say in ten days I go bag to the v.e.d.

Bod the Wooman keebs stareen' ad me, weeth beeg eyes.

Friday, October 14, 2011

Whad mos' I ead?

The Wooman say' she ees theenkeen' abou' feedeen me RAW MEAD.

She say she ees becormeen' sospicious ob the Hill's Ligh' that ees 50 porcent ob my died (order feefty ees Wellness pelleds). Remembhair I ead dry foo' so she can add agua to my pelleds, orderwise I ged blockage, yes?

Bod now, seence two weeghs, I yam nard ligheen' the agua con pelleds. I dreenk, y then I leab the kaka wed pelleds. I cannar' essplain why. Tasdes lighe sheet. She throw them oud, she geeb me dry, I ead. Also she has been geebeen' me cooghed cheecken when I yam nard eadeen'. Theese ees delicious. Por ten years I yab been tryeen' to train hor to feed me these y now when I yam DYEEN' ob typhoid she lorns. Nard so brigh'.

Bod a ved ees South Afreeca say that theese Hypertyphoidsim that I yab ees new disease por indoor cads. South Afreecan cads no ged eed so moch. Eengleesh cads, yes, Amereecan cads, yes. Maybe ees chemical een houses. Maybe ees een cadfood. Maybe ees een can' feesh.

I doan' know. We hab no chemicals (yessept soap), we ead no can' feesh, I doan' ead can' food.

Bod raw mead die-yed? Forgheen'A!!!!! Breeng eed arn. I yam ready.

She ees goeen' to butchair, now.

Also, she read, to maghe eberytheen' more complicade'. Heells, has yos (Augus' 2011) produce' new typhoid die-yed, Hills Y/D. Ees berber' low een iodine. So now whad???

Maybe she ged me thees food. Eben though she also theenk Heells, dayeen' dayoud, maybe maghe me seeck!

Bod thees new food Y/D eed has only been tesded arn 150 tesd cads ad the Heells ranch. These tesd cads ged bedhair een 4 weeghs.

Should I be a tesd cad?

Should I ead raw?

Whad you theenk?

[Admin: the cat has some issues with English. He has been diagnosed with hyperthyroidism, not typhoid.]

Monday, October 10, 2011

I yam nard here.

I yam nard ready to talgh abou' eed. An' eef the Wooman wan's to pud me een thad barx again, doan' tell hor you know where I yam. Because she doan' know I yam here. OK?


Saturday, October 8, 2011

Thank you

The cat is looking at me with black eyes telling me to get off his blog already.

But I wanted to thank every one of you for your comments and emails over the last couple of days. Everyone's support, warmth and advice has been very helpful. It's valuable to hear about others' experiences with hyperthyroidism, the treatments their cats have undergone, and especially the outcomes.

I should really compile some of your observations in a blog post titled Hyperthyroidism Treatment for Cats - so that people searching for support can find this info in one place. I may.

Estorbo has taken his first two pill doses with no problem. Although he takes pills readily from me (I've had a lot of practise with a certain vicious-when-pilled Efrican Blek-footed Ket, RIP), we decided to put each half pill in a treat, so that he can be pilled by others in case we are not here; also to make it less stressful. So far so good.

Now we watch for adverse reactions - intense face-scratching, vomiting, lethargy. Hopefully they do not appear.

In the meantime he has a question for you. We discovered this this morning on his foot.

"Whad the forgh happen' to my bag food (seee peecture aborf)???".

We think we know, but do you?

Friday, October 7, 2011

Second Opinion

This is probably more than anyone needs to know, but it helps me to write it down. The cat will soon be back.

I took Estorbo in his unattractive grey box for a second opinion to the emergency referral vet clinic on Warren Street (VERG - Veterinary Emergency and Referral Group), thankfully four blocks away - he's heavy. I did not mistrust the diagnosis from the Cobble Hill Animal Clinic, delivered by phone last night, but wanted another opinion.

We had a long wait, but it was worth it. I was deeply impressed by the manner of Dr. Inbal Lavotshkin,  the emergency vet on duty who examined him first before a specialist  talked to us. She had a very gentle bedside manner, performed a methodical exam and asked a lot of questions. And she shook me by the hand. Unusual in these parts. Then Dr Slade, the internal medicine specialist arrived and promptly sat down on the floor to ask the same questions, before examining the cat again. Then back to the floor for his rundown of the hyperthyroidism, which he felt confident in confirming, based on the physical exam, Estorbo's behaviour over the last weeks (years???) and the previous bloodwork results. He said it was not necessary in his opinion to draw blood again. The cat was very relieved, and so was I. $100 less on the bill. He explained all the treatment options, in detail. Pills, surgery, radiation, gel on ear.

By now, with the helpful feedback of so many of you, as well as my own reading, I know a lot more than I did yesterday, and was able to ask some informed questioned.

I realize that getting this news on the phone last night was not a good way to hear it - as I had no grasp of the condition itself and went into panic mode.

For now the kitty will be on daily medication for about a month to see how he responds. He gets half a pill each time, and they even cut up all the pills before bottling them. Wow. Then we will see about radiation. If it is not radiation it will be pills for the rest of his life. They can be custom-packed in edible gels to encourage him to eat them if we are not around to feed him (if we travel). There are rare side effects, and I will be watching for them.

A heart murmur was detected and they recommended that we return in about 3 weeks to see their cardiac specialist. Hyperthyroidism produces too much thyroid hormone, so everything - all organs - tend to work overtime. (It's not called "hyper" for nothing). It can affect the heart, or this may be an unrelated condition.

It may explain the panting we saw in the summer, when something frightened him and he ran, and arrived home panting like a dog.

What endeared me to these vets was their patient and gentle attitude, towards both human and animal. I find that rare. It was not patronizing, there was no overkill. Technicians in gloves did not materialize to pin the cat down (and scare the wits out of him). They took a lot of time. I was in there for well over an hour. And Estorbo was even given a kiss on his head! That is either brilliant PR on Dr Slade's part, or he just likes cats. I suspect the former, but he's forgiven.

The bill, for interest's sake? $202.00. They did not do bloodwork or urinalysis but they took his blood pressure (normal, surprisingly) and conducted a most thorough exam, talked to me forever and gave us one month's worth of medication. The Cobble Hill exam was very brief, but they did the blood test ($100) and tested the sample I brought ($40). Their bill was $218.

I am a fan. And the cat is asleep.

Thank you to each of you for the good wishes, and for your advice. I never realized how much the support might mean, but it has. I am not a team player. I tend to want to do things and manage things all on my own. But in this case it made a difference to know that others were rooting for us. Thank you very, very much, I have calmed down.The Frenchman never loses his calm. He is wiser, by far.

And Estorbo? He says the eep is mightier than the sword.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Message from the Woman

I know that there are some Estorbo readers and friends out there who care about the kitty a lot. So here's an update.

He has been drinking excessively and demanding (howling for, in the bath) water over the last few weeks. He pees a lot more. He seems hungrier. If that is possible.

He and I went to the vet on Wednesday. I took a urine sample, which he had given me obligingly, by peeing into the saucer I held under his tail (!). They were suitably impressed. At the vet's they drew blood. That was fun. A lot of screaming. He hates vets.

As I was walking up Lexington Avenue this evening, dragging my weekend suitcase, my phone rang. I was on my way to meet Ellen and Michael on the Upper East Side to drive out to their house in the Pennsylvanian woods for the weekend. Vince would join us tomorrow. Estorbo would be fed by the feeder for two nights. On the phone was Dr Young, a vet I had not met before, from the Cobble Hill Animal Clinic. The test results were in and she wanted to talk.

In short: the blood test showed acute hyperthyroidism. That caught me off guard. I had been expecting a kidney issue, based on his history (now 'cured' for years, with water added to his pellets).

She said that a normal level is 4 and that his is 19. Off the charts. I was walking fast, not wanting be late -  cabs and traffic streaming by in the dark, me listening to these bad things about my cat. She started by telling me that radiation was a good option. I was shocked. I comprehended dollar signs and death. Then she said that if that is not an option there is a daily medication, lifelong, that is not a cure, but manages the disease well.

I got to my friends, cried briefly, thought for two minutes and abruptly bailed out of our long-anticipated weekend. Ellen and and Michael are cat people whose own cats, Sisko and Seven,  travel out with them in their two baskets every weekend. I felt terrible deserting them with no notice but I knew that I had to get home and see the cat and Vince and start planning.

Tomorrow morning I will find another vet for a second opinion ( I trust ours, but it seems common sense for a diagnosis like this). And I will read more. The little I have read tonight makes radiation sound more desirable than I could have imagined, as it boasts a 95% cure. Medication (pill, twice a day, till the end of his life) is not a cure. But I have no idea what it costs, I can just imagine. Thousands. The pills cost $30 a month, and he takes pills well (from me). It may sound awful to be talking money, but we simply are not awash in it. We will find out, and we will think. Things could be much worse.

The good thing is that this is manageable...unless he has a really rare form. But that is premature.

Perhaps this explains a lot. Perhaps he has been afflicted for much of his life. This has always been an irascible cat. Short of temper. Bitey. A hungry, demanding, and recently vocal cat. It used to be just 'eep' but now it's a whole lot more. All symptoms of hyerthyroidism (Vince says these are symptoms of being a cat). But also a purring, very funny, endearing, eccentric and very loved cat. A cat who likes to sit upside down and have his claws clipped. I mean, that's just weird.

Last night he jumped onto the bed for the first time in at least 6 months, and washed, and purred, and then slept. He looks good, weighs just under 17lbs, his fur is sleek. That surprised this vet who was not the one who examined him. She said cats like this tend be emaciated.

We will take care of him, but we need to find out more, first. Your good thoughts are appreciated. I am a small wreck.

Estorbo, of course, may dine out on this. He might say that since he is dying he deserves better food. More roast chicken for example. And now that he has typhoid disease, full fat milk in the morning, not that low fat kaka sheet.

But all in his own time.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Bag frarm the bed, I mean ved

I yam bag frarm the ved. Dr. Park. She ees OK. Preedy. Sof'boice.

The teghneecian?

Dios mio.

I nearlee born their house down. I scream I yell, I growl, I swear eberywor' I know.

They TOOGH. MY. BLORD!!!!! Wha' kine' ob people do these???? They deen' eben as'!!!!

Then the Woomna say to the teghneecian when he breeng me bag: Are you OK?

She as' heem, nard me!! Me, I yab been screameen' por fibe meenutes baghstage, while they drain my libeblord. Deed he scream? No! Because he had glorbs!

They wor ber' eempress thad we brough' my pee sample. Steell warm. They wan' to know how. The Wooman say, Saucehair.

Como? they say.

Small saucehair, she say. You yos slide ondhair the cad when he maghe pee, he pee een saucehair. Ees easy.

Y I yam a pro. I weell do anytheen' y pee anywhere y eensi'e anytheen' eef eed aboids the terreeble catheter. No. Bad mammories.

Also. They toogh. my. temperature.

(ees terreeble)

I ged resolts manana or Friday. Ees keedneys, or diabetes, or thyroid...or...sormtheen' else. We know thad. We know thad.

We waid.

Y now? The geese are flyeen', an' seengeen' high aborf the house. Fourtime tonighd.  Ees coldehair. The Wooman weell go away soon. Always, she leab me. She say she hab to wride a boogh. Bod these time the Smoothman weell stay weeth me.

Eed weell be OK.


Sunday, September 25, 2011

Friday, September 16, 2011

Tryeen' to remembhair

Man, I had so many goo' ideas por a blag pose'. I was talkeen' to the Smoothman y the Wooman las' nigh' while they wor eadeen' sorphair  (they gabe me sorm cheese arn a moshroom) an' I was makeen' them laugh. Now I cannard remembair whad I was sayeen'...Sormtheen' about Major Tarmcad.

"Thees ees Major Cad to groun' carntrol..."


Y then whad happen'...?

Sorntheen' abou, "Plan-ned orth ees blue an' I doan know where to poo..."

I had the whole theen', man. I made them speed oud their fondue, they wor laugheen' so morch.

Now eed's garn. Am I geedeen' ole'?

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Arn the roop afthair the storm

I yam sorry! Ees berberhar'. The Wooman. She ees always tybetybetybe ad thees carmpudehair. No chance por Estorbo to do whad a cad's garda do, you know? Lighe orpdade my forgheen' BLARG! I start my blarg fors' ,you know. She gard the idea frarm me. 

Irene, she came, she wen', was boreen', lighe beeg storm bod no thondhair. I yam nard afrai' frarm thondhair. Was ween', morch ween', y thad made me loogh orp ad the skylighds an' say, Whadtheforghe? a few time'...

Now I yam bag arn the roop, y I ade my emergencia rations already, y I use my shelter leedhair, y now my caddle hab all lefd the roop. P. P...roopffffffffffffffffffffffffff. Ees har'. (The Smooth man has eessues weeth my prononciation.) So, I yam no longhair a rooptarp gaucho. Where hab all my caddle garn? The Wooman say they blow away.

Bod: I deed cadge a cicada. Myeeee cicada! Green, the bes' flabor. I ade eed. Was muy delicioso! Que rico...the Wooman made a mobie ob the meal bod she say I cannard pose' eed because PEDA weell be angry. Who ees he? Eed was myeeee cicada, nard PEDA's cicada.

So, afthair patrolleen' the roop een bain por days por my larst y meesseen' caddle I deed fine oud Worn New Theen': Ees a POOSSY leebeen' arn the order rooptarp! She ees blag! Name ob Coco...Serious. Bod I cannard beeseet, ees no connection between roops. The yoomans ob Coco wabe ad os worn day, an' say to the Wooman, How are las plantas afthair the horricane? The Wooman scream bag, FINE! Then they wabe ad me, and they peeck orp their poossy frarm their deg and hole' hor een the air an' I say, Madre de dios, a blag, preedy poossy, and they scream, Thees ees Coco! Then they yell, Whad ees your keedy's name? Y the Woomam  scream:  ESTOOORBO!



Whad? they yell.

Nebbermine, says the Wooman, weeth hor han's.

She tole' me she weell leab a node ondhair their door y tell them to fine' me here. 

Then they weell nebber led their poossy speaghe to me again. I know. She weel deescreeminade agains' me.

So depresseen'...

Friday, August 26, 2011

Arn the roop

I yam faceen' the wardhair. Ober there, ees the Nuevo York Harbor. Ees wed. Ees beeg ebacuation neear the wed storff een fron' ob Irene.

Een the bag are my worldy belarngeen's.  Sorm leedhair, sorm pelleds, sorm agua. My ratton. Smallpiece streeng to amuse me eef I go to Shelter. We mos remain' arn high groun'.

I only lighe wardhair een my bath. Agua. Yes, the bath. Pleease, was no leaghue! The roop was nard leakeen' een las' weegh's storm ober the bath! How conbeniend. No: was wed ombrella EEN my bath! Thees ees where I dreenk! (Ad the momen'. Ees a phase, OK?OK!). Whad the forgh...