I do not have any pets, but I would like to get one. The obvious answer for me is that I need a service dog, but that is an enormous bit of time and commitment that I do not have. The pet that makes the most sense for me is a cat, but I’ve dragged my feet because I’d have to clean the litter box. I will shell out real money for a fancy one that cleans itself because the alternative is simply to vomit into it.

I have a thing with bad smells. Disposable litter trays are more expensive, but they get rid of the problem with efficiency. It worked with Asher, it will work with the new cat, too. The key is just to look for the laziest cat on record. They’ll roll with anything. My last cat, Dodger, was the eternal Dude. You could hold him upside down and backwards and he’d still be like, “there’s a beverage here, man.” I play with cats for a long time before I adopt them, because I want the personality I want. If it’s going to be hyper with a kid, no dice. And you cannot tell that from a kitten, really, so I tend to go with cats that are about a year old. I am perfectly happy to skip the “I am in my needle claws era.”

When I have a cat, I really get into it. Like, I’m not the cat owner who buys it all kinds of toys, I’m the one that thinks, “wow. I just adopted a sentient pillow.” Dodger would let me lay on his back and he’d lick the product out of my hair.

It’s “Gorilla Snot,” by the way.

I’d just feel his body purring into my head, and let the tension roll out of my body. Cats really do not need a whole lot of toys if you’re home all the time. They just want to lay on you. Correction. They just want to lay on your laptop. Right where your hands are supposed to go.

Sigh.

What I do get into are magazines. I used to be a “Cat Fancy” subscriber because there were all kinds of tips, tricks, and most importantly, coupons. Dodger was beautiful. I should have given them a picture. I know I have one somewhere, but it would take so long to look it up that I’m just not going there at 4:16 AM.

(No, I have not been up all night. I just woke up. “Sunup writer” is part of my identity.)

A cat would also be there to absorb my energy and dissipate it. Cats are very, very good at helping me (and everyone) emotionally regulate when they’re crashing out. Because I do not currently have a cat, I have a weighted plush that gives the same function- pressure on my chest. But the added benefit of being loved in return is your heartbeat beating counterpoint to a purr.

I am a dog person and a cat person. They are not mutually exclusive. I tend to bond very deeply with one pet, but obviously cats and dogs are different, so I’m not alarmed by the concept of “one of each.” A cat just seems more manageable to my budget right now, and I need an employee.

Baltimore is known for mice, and the SPCA is full of consultants for that very issue. My alarm is that two cats are the actual size of the problem because I live in the basement. I’m thinking about looking around Parole for an apartment, because it’s the lived-in version of Annapolis, where infrastructure for the yuppies is hidden. The place where you want to be because the beach is a short drive, but you’re not a part of the yachting set.

Royal Farms is literally everywhere in Maryland, I do not have to choose the job based on the location. It would be nice, because the manager was nice to me at the one where I went, but transferring is an even easier deal than applying out there. And in fact, that reminds me. I should take my dad to RoFo for dinner because the chicken box is the classic Baltimore road trip food, plus if my dad doesn’t want fried chicken they have all kinds of other stuff. The chicken is good, but the potato wedges call to me in the middle of the night.

They’re very, very good at it.

My dad lands at 3:20, so provided his plane is on time, the traffic going out to the beach shouldn’t be too heavy. And if it is, who cares? Talking in the car is valid as an activity. We do not have to get somewhere to do something together, we just have to be somewhere.

Plus, if my dad is tired I have all kinds of audiobooks and music he can choose from. My car also supports wired CarPlay, so if he wants to plug in his own phone, he’s welcome. I don’t get wigged when someone else is driving. I just go with the flow. It depends on how he feels. I know I wouldn’t want to drive to Annapolis on landing because I’d be too tired, so my main goal is to rest up in case he’s toast.

It is amazing how much a Rita’s Italian Ice or a Wawa soft serve will pick you up, though. They finally got smart and started offering a 10oz ice cream cup, because the 16oz parfait was just too much. However, not all of the toppings for the parfait are offered with the ice cream cup. I prefer a drizzle of their caramel, because it’s so rich it’s closer to butterscotch.

Now I know that I am starting to get hungry, because all I can think of are places to take my dad to eat when he lands and there are five or ten of them competing. Three are ice cream places, and yet going to all three needs to happen at some point. We need to go to a local Maryland creamery, Wawa, and Rita’s. Because even though Wawa and Rita’s are chains, I don’t think they extend to Houston.

The thing about Baltimore and Parole is that there’s no performance to it. Yes, there are chains, but there’s an equal amount of small business, particularly veteran-owned. And because of Heytch, I’ll say “Go Navy” despite my historical love for the Army; If our history is any indication, she is probably furious that Navy has gained the wrong kind of fan.

To paraphrase Juno, “I’m not sure what kind of fan I am.”

Heytch and I got off on the wrong foot, and never recovered. But she’s very public on social media, so I continue to be entertained by the shenanigans she wants the public to see, not trying to do anything but be a fan. I just don’t always assume that other people see themselves the same way that they see me. For instance, looking at pictures of them is wrong, but inhaling my blog so that they can quote it chapter and verse is totally and completely normal behavior. “I memorize everything my friends write,” said no one ever.

I am not doing anything more to them than they are to me, which is consuming them as the product they want to be in the world. The difference is that for many years I have assumed that people were right, that there was something wrong with me for scrolling a friend’s timeline, looking for witty observations and memes to steal. Meanwhile, they’re having book discussion group exegesis on my work. What’s even more emotionally expensive is knowing that people are doing it while you’re in the room with them.

My words create glances across the room that have nothing to do with me, because they do not want my input. They want to believe the story that they told themselves, and I am comfortable with it.

Because the story they have about me is one that’s based on a character, and not who I am in real life.

Maybe a cat would help.