Dear SK fans.
I am writing this letter from Cat Camp, where MAD dumped, I mean, dropped me off earlier this week so he could run off and have a grand old time taking in Broadway shows, eating at overpriced NYC restaurants and packing on the calories at artisan ice cream parlors and high falutin’ Chelsea boutiques that actually offer olive-flavored gelato.
I am annoyed for many reasons. One, I am the Brooklyn native, not him, and I was not even invited along. Instead, he and my publicist tried to sell me on “cat camp,” like that sounded fun, where I get my own private cabin in a place called “Fresh Pond” in Cambridge.
I’m not much for the water, but “Fresh Pond” sounded kind of “campy” though I never really thought of Cambridge, Mass., as a camping destination. The way MAD and my publicist were selling it, I could practically hear the crunch of pine needles under Birkenstocks and the sweet smell of edamame emanating from an open fire. My publicist promised a spa treatment.
My pub and MAD packed me and my stuff up and off we went to Camp Fresh Pond in Cambridge, which was surprisingly a very short car ride. Was I in for a surprise. Camp Fresh Pond is nothing what I thought. It’s in the back of a pet store in the middle of a faceless strip mall along one of the most congested roadways in the city.
Instead of owls hooting in the night, I heard SUV horns. Instead of birds tweeting as dawn broke, I heard the hustle and bustle of commuters trying to get to work on time. Fresh air? Try exhaust fumes. Fresh Pond? Still have yet to see a drop of water beyond my water bowl. My cabin? Well, that more resembles a cage. I think it’s the bars and lock on the door that give me that impression. Someone strung curtains across it to try and give it some Feng Shui, but I’m not feeling the chi. Granted I do not have to share a litter box, and I take my meals alone.
The counselors are nice, though, and a few times a day, one lets me out of my cabin/cage and brushes me. She tells me stories about herself and other cats and always tells me how beautiful and sweet I am.
I noticed the dogs had an option to upgrade to a suite with cable television. They are also let out to run around with each other and jump over things. Unlike us felines, dogs can’t seem to be content with just curling up alone and feeling sorry for themselves
I did get my spa treatment, so my nails are nicely trimmed now. It will be a few more weeks before I get my claws back into the couch at home. (MAD has seen nothing, yet!)
I have also noticed that neither MAD nor my publicist has called to see if I’m alive or dead here at Camp Fresh Pond. I’d ponder that further, but I’m being forced to go sing Kumbaya by the campfire now.
‘til next time, (hopefully there will be a next time), xo LMA