A yawning kitty in a studded collar.
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Vespa, the Punk Kitty | April 1988 | Copyright 1988


One of my most favorite stories to re-tell is not, in fact, a story of my own, but a story belonging to my friend Mike. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so I share this story with you today.

Mike had a cat named Tigger. Mike and Tigger had an agreement. Mike would feed and occasionally give Tigger affection, in exchange for Mike’s promise that he would only ever take Tigger to the vet once. And that is how Tigger ultimately obtained his full legal name: Tigger B. Nutless.

Fast-forward a few years into Mike & Tigger’s relationship. In a moment fueled equally by silliness and random curiosity, Mike applied for a frequent flyer miles card in Tigger’s name. Imagine everyone’s surprise when Tigger’s very own flight card showed up in the mail. Apparently, even a small-town cat can get his own ticket to free travel. Tigger didn’t plan on taking very many trips in the near future, but obtaining such a card as a cat was unprecedented, and Tigger was proud.

One afternoon, as it often happens in the US of A, a telemarketer telephoned Mike’s residence.
“HELLOOOO,” said Mike.
“Hello,” said the voice on the other end of the line. “Is this Mr. Nutless?”
“No,” replied Mike, “Mr. Nutless is not at home right now.”
“Oh,” said the fellow on the other end of the line, “could you tell me when you expect him?”
“He usually stays out all day, and won’t come back until he’s hungry. He’ll probably wander in sometime after dark,” said Mike.
The flustered telemarketer then said he’d try later, and promptly hung up.


PS This is not a photo of Tigger, but a photo of my old cat Vespa, who was never lucky enough to have her own frequent flyer card.

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