Monday, March 14, 2011
The Real Frankie
Frankie Mayfield, Lila's white Burmese cat, was actually named after my not-so-exotic cat. My cat was a stray with four homeless brothers named after the Brat Pack. I got Frank Sinatra. Unlike the pedigree of a Burmese, there's nothing fine about Frankie's breeding. He carries extra weight and walks around as if a cigar is hanging out of his mouth. If he talked, I think he'd sound like Paul Sorvino. Despite being a stray, he doesn't seem grateful for the home I've provided and has an odd sense of entitlement. My friends are convinced he invites unsavory neighborhood cats over for a pokerfest the minute I leave the house. I'm not exactly sure why people love cats so much. They definitely don't return the love the way dogs do. I don't know...perhaps it's a different kind of love. He does sleep with me, but I'm sure it's only to keep warm.