Mr. Doofus

Mr. Doofus

In the years before everything changed, Greg knew that someday he would send his last message, speak his last words, and enjoy a sunset. One day, someone would speak his name for the last time. Finality brings focus. When a cup of coffee potentially becomes your last, the sips are dark and delicious, and even a drop wasted brings regret.

It was all theoretical until the doctor uncomfortably leaned forward and adjusted his tie. Even after years of practice, he hadn’t acquired the ability to tell someone that they would soon be defined by a dash between dates. “It’s everywhere. The exploratory surgery confirmed it.”

Greg asked the only question he could think of.

“I’d say two months. I’m so sorry,” the doctor answered.

Greg’s days were truly numbered.

After leaving the doctor’s office, he drove home. Instead of going inside, he walked across the railroad tracks. He meandered through the abandoned industrial district that once fueled the small town. He’d seen it all dozens of times. This time, however, he paid attention to every detail.

Greg stopped near an abandoned building that once held dozens of workers. The sign that once displayed the name of a thriving company was now rusted and faded. It was a relic now, succumbing to time. When Greg was young, the place was buzzing with life. Now, it slowly rusted and constantly sought ways to disintegrate.

“I thought I had more time. I thought I could take back all the ways I insisted I was right. In faith, in action, and words.” He didn’t know why he said it aloud.

The trees above him didn’t acknowledge him like he expected. They rebuffed his excessive self-reflection. For once, he stood under them and let the breeze wash over him.

The abandoned cat chose that moment to make his appearance and introduction. He poked through between bent pieces of galvanized metal, probably after hearing Greg’s voice.

Greg didn’t have time to react as the scruffy grey cat ran over to him, meowed, and then forcefully rubbed against the back of his leg. Bending down, he rubbed the cat’s head as it arched its back to meet his fingers. The cat’s fur was messy and tangled in a few places.

As Greg ran his fingers along the cat’s back, he felt a scar that traversed at least four inches of the cat’s back. Pushing the fur aside, he could see that the jagged scar was long-healed, even though the cat didn’t appear to be very old.

The cat meandered behind him as Greg walked home. Greg walked slowly, appreciating the leaves, the fading sun, and his collection of memories. He stopped at the railroad tracks, staring in each direction as the tracks stretched away from him.

“I’ve got a scar like that too,” Greg told the cat as it peered up at him and rubbed his leg. Greg’s scar was only a few months old. He caught himself touching it lightly through his shirt several times a day. The surgery that could have lasted three hours took only fifteen minutes before the surgeon closed him back up.

“Go home, doofus,” Greg said as he turned to rub the cat’s head one last time.

Greg avoided looking back at the cat as he neared his house. Taking his keys from his pocket, he turned. The cat sat directly behind him, looking up.

Greg opened the door and held it open. The cat meowed and walked inside as Greg shook his head.

“Just for a minute, okay? I can’t give you a permanent home.”

He watched as the cat ran to the couch, jumped up to the edge, and watched him.

When Greg reached for the cat to pet it, it hunkered down slightly and then jumped. Greg caught him as the cat arched up and nuzzled under his chin. Greg laughed as the cat’s whiskers rubbed against his face.

“Let’s see what I can find to give you to eat, Mr. Doofus.” Greg finally bent down to let the cat sit on the floor and look up at him.

Within a couple of minutes, Greg placed a small plate of tuna on the floor. “Your dinner is served,” Greg said.

Mr. Doofus meowed a loud thank-you and began eating the tuna noisily.

Greg placed a bowl of water next to the kitchen table. Mr. Doofus slowly walked over to the bowl and began drinking.

After heating up a microwave meal, Greg picked up his small tray and turned to the living room.

Mr. Doofus jumped up in the middle of the couch, turned, and faced the TV.

Greg sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. News wouldn’t hold his interest. It mattered only when you thought you might be around to see how everything worked out.

Mr. Doofus climbed onto Greg’s lap and curled up, purring loudly. Greg ate a few bites of his meal before pushing it across the coffee table. Instead of paying attention to the TV, Greg rubbed his hands along Mr. Doofus until he was purring like a jet engine.

For the first night in weeks, Greg slept soundly, despite sprawling out on the uncomfortable couch. He didn’t remember falling asleep, nor that Mr. Doofus had curled up next to him.

The next morning, Greg sat up, certain that he would be stiff and sore from sleeping on the couch. Instead, he felt like his old self.

Mr. Doofus rubbed his head along Greg’s leg until he jumped down and walked over to the door to paw at it.

“Gotta go to the bathroom?”

Greg opened the door as the cat meandered out. It didn’t even occur to Greg that his new friend might not return. He left the door open.

By the time Greg had finished his coffee, brushed his teeth, and decided he needed to go to the store to get Mr. Doofus some supplies, Mr. Doofus popped back inside, meowing loudly to announce his presence.

The cat ran across to jump up on the couch as Greg’s fingers rubbed along his fur.

“Keep an eye on things for me. I’ll be back in thirty, okay?”

Mr. Doofus jumped down and walked over to the window. He jumped up and sat on the sill, licking his paw before running it smoothly across the top of his head.

Greg made it back home in forty-five minutes. He set up the litter box and put out the special decorated bowls for his new friend. Opening the bag of special cat food, he poured it into the bowl.

“I picked this out because the cat on the bag looks like you,” Greg told Mr. Doofus, who was already eating from the new bowl.

Greg turned on the TV and pulled out his phone. Mr. Doofus jumped up onto his lap and spread across him as Greg petted him.

“I’ll be back Monday,” Greg said, after his manager answered.

“That’s great news! So you’re doing okay? We were worried.” Greg’s manager sounded relieved.

“Yes, everything’s okay now.”

Mr. Doofus peered up at Greg as he finished the call.

“What? I’m fine. I’m just not going to be around as long as I thought. None of us is.”

Mr. Doofus seemed unconvinced, but settled back down when Greg ran his hand all the way down his back to the end of his tail.

When Greg got up to make another coffee and then went outside, the cat followed him and sat next to his left leg, rubbing and purring.

Over the next eleven months, Greg fell into a routine, including this new friend in everything he did. He wasted a lot of money buying the cat toys until one day he accidentally dropped an empty toilet paper roll on the bathroom floor. Mr. Doofus growled and attacked it. He spent the next ten minutes fighting it to the death. Soon after, Greg came home from work with multiple empty rolls that people had saved for him. He didn’t mind cleaning up the shredded cardboard because it was the only thing that reminded Mr. Doofus that he had once been wild.

The day finally came when he knew he had to put aside the veneer of privacy and talk to his neighbor Jane. She lived across the street and two houses down. They had greeted each other more than once, but never had a real conversation. Greg knew that she was a single mom and had struggled financially for a long time. Just looking at her car, it was obvious that crossed fingers probably kept it intact.

Jane took a bit to answer the door. She left the storm door closed as she smiled. Greg didn’t blame her for being cautious.

“Jane, I’m sorry to bother you, but if you have a few minutes, I would like to talk to you.”

Jane pushed the store door open and almost stepped out. She looked at Greg strangely and then pushed it out and held it open.

“Come on in. I’m making supper, if you don’t mind me doing that while we talk.”

As Greg stepped inside, the aroma of whatever she was making assaulted him. Hunger had mostly become a thing of the past, but the smell made his stomach growl.

Jane walked into the kitchen as Greg followed her. He stopped by the kitchen table as Jane stirred marinara on the stove top.

When Greg hesitated, Jane smiled. “Don’t be nervous. Unless you’re asking me for money.”

“I don’t know how to tell you all this. I apologize in advance for hitting you with it.”

Jane’s face changed as she listened. The smile became flat.

“No, it’s not anything bad or about you,” Greg said. “You know I don’t have any family left, right?”

Jane nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Sixty years taught me it’s the way life is. And the last year definitely reminded me. Anyway, I’m not going to be around much longer.”

Jane grimaced. Greg could see her recoil instinctively.

“I’ve lived longer than the doctor said I would. But now it’s time to face facts. I don’t know you at all, really, but if you agree, I’d like to make you an offer.”

“Oh?” It was easy to see that Jane was confused and probably a little worried because she had no context.

“Because I have no family, I want to give you my house, my car, and everything else left over.”

Jane’s face went through a series of contortions as she tried to catch up to what Greg had said.

“Give me your house? But you don’t know me!”

“I know. But I know you’re renting this house. And I know it’s a struggle as a mom with a 10-year-old boy.”

“So you want to just give me your house? What’s the catch? I’m sorry for being cynical. There has to be one.”

Greg shook his head. “There is. I want you to let my cat, Mr. Doofus, live in the house with you once I’m gone. That’s it. I think I’m only still alive because he adopted me a while back, at the exact moment I needed him.”

Jane’s eyes widened as she studied Greg’s face. In the thirty-eight years she had lived, she had learned to trust her instincts. Her gut told her Greg was telling the truth.

Her eyes welled up with tears as she continued to stare at Greg.

“I will need some more details from you, but I’m going to take care of everything so that I can make sure you don’t have to do anything or pay any legal bills.”

Jane turned awkwardly, turned off the stove burner, and moved the pan. She moved to the table, pulled the chair away from it, and sat down. As Greg watched, she put her face between her hands and sobbed.

Because he didn’t know her well, he waited silently. It took Jane a bit before she raised her head and wiped her eyes with her hands.

“Are you sure? There’s no one else?”

Greg shook his head. “Don’t be sad for me. Think of it as karma from the universe. I didn’t do anything to deserve the tumor that grew inside of me for a year before I knew it was there. But you deserve a chance, and I can give it to you. A place for your son to finish growing up and a place that’s yours. I’m going to get a new car and put the title in both of our names. It will be yours too, along with any money I have left over.”

“I’m so sorry, Greg. Jesus, I don’t know what to say. Last week I almost couldn’t make rent, and now you’re telling me you’re just giving me your house.”

Greg smiled. He instinctively knew that she was coming around to the idea.

“And yes, I will adopt Mr. Doofus and keep him for as long as he lives.” Jane wiped her eyes again. “I would have a pet, but I’d have to pay another deposit.”

Greg pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and flattened it. He put it on the table near Jane.

“Fill in these details tonight, if you don’t mind. You can put it on my door if you’d like. I have the day off tomorrow, and I’m going to meet my lawyer.”

Jane pushed back from the table, stood up, and took three steps before throwing her hands around Greg and hugging him.

“I am so sorry, Greg. Please don’t fault me for maybe looking happy. I’m sad for you.”

Greg tentatively put his arms around Jane and squeezed her.

When she stepped back, he smiled.

“I promise you I’m okay. I’ll let you finish dinner. I know your son’s coming home soon. Enjoy your evening, okay?”

Jane nodded, but didn’t reply. Greg knew that she was about to burst into tears. Had he told her she would probably end up with $200,000, she might have completely lost control.

When Greg went inside his house, Mr. Doofus meowed loudly until he sat on the floor and playfully wrestled with him. He ignored the pain running across his sides.

“You’re going to get a new friend to take care of you,” Gred said. Mr. Doofus stopped playfully biting at Greg’s fingers as he looked up. “Thank you for finding me, you little doofus.”

Mr. Doofus grabbed Greg’s right hand with his paws and resumed nipping at him with his teeth. Greg laughed and forgot about everything for a while.

A few weeks later, Maple Street became lined with colorful red, yellow, and orange leaves. The blue house with the blue door filled the air with competing colors. Inside, Jane sat on the couch. Her son Jefferson playfully tossed a cardboard roll to Mr. Doofus as he sat on the windowsill. Catching it in his paws, he attacked it. Little pieces of cardboard floated to the floor below. Jane shook her head, knowing that she would dutifully sweep it up later, once Mr. Doofus had vanquished the cardboard invader.

She thought of Greg almost every time she looked at Mr. Doofus. He wasn’t a cat at all. He was a timely angel, furry and loving. Had it not been for him, Greg wouldn’t have had enough time to come to terms with his death or his ability to help someone like her.

“Mom, is this really our house forever?” Her son Jefferson had asked her the same question a hundred times.

“No, it’s our home,” Jane said, smiling. “With our very own guardian angel.”

Mr. Doofus turned in a circle as he sat on the windowsill. He stared out the window as the leaves drifted to the ground.

Why Not?

A preemptive thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes. This picture is from 4 years ago, when I was forced into the role of superhero and shenanigans. Other than not hitting buildings while you’re flying, it’s very important to hydrate.

Pretend

“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.” 

Vonnegut’s warning about adapting and conforming to roles and behaviors is as true today as it was 65 years ago. 

It runs in the back of my mind all the time as I watch people sacrifice agency and personality. 

If you dehumanize people, convinced you’re doing it for profit, eventually you are not separate from the organization that financially motivates you to do it.

If you spout ideology, whether for entertainment purposes or views, at some point you become your words.

The positive aspect of this is that of course you can become kinder by using habit to constantly reinforce the behavior you want from yourself. 

The main focus that runs through my mind is that people are maintaining appearances and adopting personalities that serve them to make a living. Paradoxically, however, they often find themselves becoming what initially was a facade.

One of my favorite wood panels that I’ve made. I made it as a reminder of youth. And to never be the one on the sideline watching other people find a way to get the crayons and stick them out of their nostrils. I’ve not done well with this lately. 

Equalnight

Last night was the first night I heard significant insect sounds flooding the neighborhood. I guess it makes sense since yesterday was the spring equinox. ‘Equalnight’ sounds more exotic to me than the Latin word ‘equinox.’

For anyone who missed it, the breeze and temperature combined to assert the fact that spring has sprung. Walking around all the neighborhoods felt magical in a way that defies description. I’m certain it’s a primeval recognition of things renewed.

I chased the local barn owl around the streets across the railroad tracks. It flew over me three times, its wings flapping like a carpet being whipped in the air. Its hoot was enormous as it echoed and created a Doppler effect as it swooped away.

I stood in the darkness, listening to the insects and the birds that refused to pay attention to our clocks. I did my best to stand absolutely still long enough for my camera to take an exposure and show me what would have been otherwise unseeable. I found a little slice of Narnia.

Before I reluctantly finished my walk, I made a huge loop and came back around to Elm Street. I like listening to the rooster crowing. And imagining the neighbors futilely trying to cover their head and ears with their blankets as it announces the day. But maybe they’ve become accustomed to it, much in the way that the roar of the train as it passes isn’t a nuisance to most of us who experience it. (For married folks, I would compare it to realizing that your spouse has been talking for 10 minutes and you suddenly recognize the buzz of words to be someone actually talking to you.)

Elm Street also has a house with a beautiful multi-colored Christmas tree in the front window. 

Before finishing my walk, I paid a visit to the towering Mimosa tree to check its branches. After living here a few years, experience has taught me that it is the one true barometer of the season. 

Fayetteville has decided that mimosas are invasive, and perhaps they are. I would argue that we are too. The staggering growth of Northwest Arkansas proves it. 

Dumbass-Keurig Effect

Maximum confidence. Minimum information. 

People who know the least tend to be the most certain. I see it day in and day out. I modified the original name of this and call it the Dumbass-Keurig effect, because it’s likely you’ll hear the dumbest nonsense when someone’s holding a cup of coffee and giving an opinion, completely oblivious to the fact that you want to put in an MRI order for them just to determine whether there’s a brain in there or not.

As an example, someone close to me recently had to deal with someone calling one of the most knowledgeable, educated people she knew “dumber than a box of rocks.” 

It’s a tactic employed by ignorance to dismiss the presence of knowledge and intelligence. It’s corollary is the boring and clichè “no common sense” accusation. 

Ignorance is a fixable condition. We’re all ignorant about a variety of things, often including things that deeply affect us. That’s okay, provided that we accept our lack of knowledge and understanding. 

Which leads me back to my original point:  Don’t leave your fingers inside the door frame when you close the car door. 

Observation

“It’s not that evil wouldn’t recognize itself in the mirror. It never pauses for self-reflection. Evil is compromised by certainty. It’s not that all certain people are evil, but it’s demonstrably true that all evil people are certain.”

-Quote from an obscure American

Güino is incredibly close to being 18 now. I put him on a freshly-washed towel so that he could enjoy the warmth.

Eye For I

I sat at the eye doctor with my eyes dilated to the maximum. Waiting was an excuse to be creative. The attendant at first couldn’t believe I could see well enough to draw. He asked me what I was drawing. “An alien who accidentally took the wrong kind of laxative” was my off-the-cuff answer.

“Can I have it?”

I thought he was pranking me, but I could see by the look on his face that he was serious.

I handed him the card.

“This gives me an idea for a story,” he said.

I laughed and then realized I probably should explain my reaction.

“I’m not used to running into people like me.”

“People are generally tedious, aren’t they?”

He slipped the card in the front pocket of his scrubs.

You never know.

Eclipse and Thoughts

I had better pictures of the eclipse this morning. But I like this one better because it cost me a little bit of my sanity trying to hold my camera still for 30 seconds to get it. 

Evidently, saying “I’m gas-powered!”  when you experience flatulence doesn’t pardon the act like you think it would. No more than always keeping a taller friend around to protect yourself from lightning is an acceptable safety measure. (Although it is effective.)

As for worry and regret, remember if you had done something truly catastrophic, a time traveler would have come back in time to stop you. 

As for perversion, people in the medical field will tell you that you should never do anything that you might have to explain to a paramedic. 

Most of us are just one insight away from being capable of profound change. The problem is that we’re too busy looking at our phones to experience life, followed by the silence that opens the door for new thoughts. 

For those who have to endure meetings, jump up and shout, “Oh my God! I forgot!” And then run out of the room. No one will question you and you’ll have enough time to figure out an excuse by the time you come back.