My fellow meerlovers, we have been betrayed.
I’m sure you all know what I’m talking about: Last week, after sleeping with Houdini, Flower abandoned her children in the desert with her pregnant sister Rocket Dog. Rocket Dog, her belly and her heart heavy with the bittersweet anxiety of motherhood, cracked under the strain and, after her first nephew was killed by a raptor, left her other nephew to die in the sand alone, mewing out his last yips to the cruel, uncaring air.
But fear not! The members of Monica’s Meerkat Manor Mania will not sit idly by as our brothers-and-sisters-in-spirit-if-not-in-species expire in the Kalahari. I have already sent letters to Animal Planet, its Parent Corporation That Must Not Be Named and the production staff of Meerkat Manor reiterating my offer to stay with the kats in their habitat and help them through the dry season. In my letters, I have repeatedly explained my special bond with the kats, my ability to understand them and my mastery of basic kat grammar (Check out the forums discussion from 08/04, “What tense was Flower using during her lovemaking with Zaphod?”).
Keep in mind that I made my original proposal to join the kats just so things like last week’s tragedy wouldn’t happen. While I haven’t received an official response yet, I bet you three grubworms and a caterpillar that if too many more pups die, yours truly will be on her way to a very special sandhole in the Kalahari!!!
Some of your e-mails have asked me to lighten up on Flower a little bit because she’s only doing what’s best for the whole group in running away and leaving her children to die brutal deaths. First, let me say that I completely understand where you are coming from. Like all of us, I first met Flower in 2005 and immediately fell in love with her. I have always admired her graceful sinewy form, the flash of intelligence in her beady eyes, how her precious little claws curve ever so gently down to razor sharpness.
And, of course, I have great respect for her ability to lead. You don’t know how many times I’ve wished our world could be run by women as strong, selfless and brave as Flower! As an independent woman who’s not afraid to speak her mind, I’ve always felt a kinship with Flower. I think we’d make a great sister-sister team — foraging together, digging for grubs, nursing our young. You might even remember that I renamed Mr. Nubbins in Flower’s honor in early 2006. That’s dedication.
But times have changed. In the desert we practice tough love, and lately Flower hasn’t been making the cut. She’s made poor decisions and put herself and all the kats in danger. To be honest, I think Flower is becoming mentally unstable. I’ve said for a long time that the monstrous hunk of man-made plastic that the production staff has forced Flower to wear makes her nervous and uncomfortable, and I think the stress of being a star is finally taking its toll. Her grooming has become embarrassingly poor. She’s getting bitchier and bitchier with the rest of the kats. And I’m sorry, but if you don’t think her decision to split up the family and vanish into the desert is proof of insanity, then you’re the crazy one.
And finally there’s Flower’s shocking and ominous descent into shameless promiscuity. Dignity and self-respect are two big things I associate with the old Flower, and she just isn’t displaying either one anymore. Her sleeping with a loner, troublemaker and, frankly, a misogynist bastard like Houdini shows how far she’s fallen. And the worst part is that I know she doesn’t want to. She’s just lonely and unhappy and weak. And sometimes when he comes around, she just can’t help it and lets him come back and ruin her life.
I know Flower’s inadequacy comes as a shock to many of us. But we must be strong, for ourselves, for her and for all the kats. As a first step, I have re-renamed Mr. Nubbins Mr. Nubbins again (about which he is purrrfectly happy!).
If I receive no response from my letters and no action is taken to keep Flower in line and save our kats, I am prepared to do what is necessary. As a twofold act of protest and remembrance, I will go to the nearest sandy environment, in this case the Westport beach, and wait until I either die of exposure, like Flower’s first son, or am carried away by a bird of prey, like her second. For my sake, for Flower’s sake, for our family’s sake, I hope there are martial eagles in Westport, and I hope they’re big.
Contrary to popular belief, Steven Kochevar is not a desperate, 40-year old housefrau. In fact, he’s a quite enjoyable, furry, approximately 20-pound meerkat who has made a home near G-Heav. They CAN survive the Connecticut winters.