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When Oliver Came to Visit
John P. Beavers Most of our friends who are parents and our age are grandparents, or great grandparents. We aren’t. I’m amazed what grandparents do for grandchildren, great or otherwise, that they would not have done for their children. Susan and I have adult daughters, but no grandchildren, great or otherwise. So to us, our daughter’s and son-in-law’s kitten is our grandkitten. And Oliver came to visit when Kristen began her third-year medical-school rounds in various hospitals across the country and Aaron began graduate school in architecture at UCLA. But the visit, which began in June, became extended. And the kitten, being our child’s child, wrote the following letter, with my help, to his abandoning parents. All of this shows either how gullible our daughter and son in law are or how lacking I am of anything meaningful to do. “Mer’dith” as used in the letter is Meredith, our older daughter and, accordingly, Oliver’s aunt, and “Arnie” is a code word used by Meredith’s grandparents for ice cream so that we, the parents, wouldn’t know what her grandparents were feeding her. The spinster cat-sister is Kristen’s 13-year old cat that we inherited when Kristen left for college. The two stupid golden haired dogs are a golden retriever that Kristen had us buy from the father of one of Kristen’s classmates and that retriever’s half-sister that is owned by a neighbor. “Hello muddah, hello faddah, “Here I am at Camp Granada. Camp is very entertaining, but . . .” What is this! You said I was going to summer camp, but school is back in session, and I’m still stuck with here with Grandma, the ol’ gray-haired guy, my spinster cat-sister, and the stupid golden-haired dog (sometimes two stupid golden-haired dogs). “Take me home, oh muddah, faddah. Take me home, I hate Granada” I don’t even know the names of all of those living, or sometimes staying, here at this camp. I think I’ve figured out that Grandma is also known as “Susan” and sometimes as “mom” or “mother.” And my spinster cat-sister is “Puddin” or “Tainer” or “Ms. T” or the “Grumpy One.” And the stupid golden-haired dogs are “B” or “Ms. B” or “Ilse” or “Brittany” or “Paris.” But I’m real confused as to who the ol’ gray-haired guy is. Grandma keeps saying to me “Mr. Beavers will deal with you when he gets home,” and the only one who comes home is the ol’ gray-haired guy. But he’s also called “John,” “dad,” “daddy,” “grandpa,” “Hank,” and some other names that Grandma says, but won’t allow me to say! “Take me home I promise I will not make noise. Or mess the house with other boys.” And let me tell you about the litter boxes. I’m a boy, and I use them. If there’s four, I use all four. And being a boy, I like to kick kitty litter all over the floor around the litter box. But now my spinster cat-sister has her own, private litter box hidden away in a room where I first stayed with the two of you and then with faddah when he visited later. And I’m locked out of that room! What’s with this!! Aren’t all of us campers to be treated the same!!! “Let me come home, if you miss me. I would even let Aunt Mer’dith hug and kiss me.” Isn’t one of the pleasures of going to camp that you get to play with the other campers. Even tease them. So, how can I do that when my spinster cat-sister is locked away! Why’s she so special that she gets her own, private room and bath?!! “You remember Jeffrey Hardy, they're about to organize a searching party.” Grandma tells me to tease the dogs instead of my spinster cat-sister. But they’re so dumb they don’t know when they’ve been teased. They just want to pant and drool on me! Especially the one called “Ilse” who keeps appearing and disappearing. What’s with that!! Here one day, gone the next!!! “How I don't want this should scare ya, but my bunkmate has malaria” And why aren’t you asking about me when you talk to one of them? Grandma says neither of you asks anything. What kind of neglect is that! Am I gone and forgotten?!! “And Grandpa wants no sissies. So he reads to me from something called Ulysses.” The ol’ gray-hair guy says I suck-up to Grandma. You better believe that I do. I let her pick me up and carry me around ‘cause she’s the one who feeds me. Real cat food, not the diet stuff you were giving me! And she feeds me cold snacks called “Arnie,” not those stupid beans that you were feeding me!! “Wait a minute, it's not so bad here. Plenty of food and even beer here. And I’m playing ball, gee that’s better. Muddah, faddah kindly disregard this letter.”
P.S. The ol’ gray-haired guy says apologies to Alan Sherman who wrote and sung some song entitled “Camp Granada.” |