Aren’t homes wonderful? I guess I took it for granted. I realized this one traumatic summer when my friend Rick was visiting Japan and I was babysitting his cat, Juanito. On July 7, 2014 I accidentally let Juanito escape from the apartment.
(By the way, on July 7th a Japanese festival called “Hoshi Matsuri” commemorates the day two Japanese deities, Orihime and Hikoboshi, are separated by the Milky Way. Therefore they can only meet once a year. A heartbreaking story, and it was that same night I broke Rick’s old heart.)
Panicking, I ran outside, but the cat was no place to be seen. I realized that, no matter what, I needed to notify my friend. The worst scenario would be if the cat was never found; Rick would be very angry if he didn’t get the opportunity to search. A half-day after I sent off a dreadful email, he got back to me (due to the time difference).
Rick was definitely upset, but he wasn’t angry with me. His attitude about it was actually very mature, and he also knew flying off the handle wouldn’t help recover Juanito. He had me contact his mom and his friends Jorge, Melinda and Sean for help. Even with a concerted effort, we couldn’t find the cat. I walked around the neighborhood every three hours (and I mean every three hours) for a few weeks, calling his name while shaking a bag of dry cat food, desperately hoping the cat would reappear.
A week to ten days later, I finally decided to throw a Hail Mary shot. Desperate, I asked Eddie Ifft, a very funny comedian, if I could guest on his immensely popular podcast “Talkin’ Shit” and ask his fans for help. He agreed. I told the podcast audience the general area the cat was last seen in, along with a description of Juanito. And I included my personal cell phone number. In any other situation, I wouldn’t give out my number, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I was hoping for any clues or other help. I have to say, many of his listeners were very encouraging. But there were a few shocking responses as well…
The first text message said, “Exciting news, Yoshi! I think I found your cat! Hold on a second, let me send you the pic!”
I was so excited. My nightmare was coming to an end, so I thought. But when I clicked the new text, it was a picture of the sender’s cock!
This motherfucker was playing with my fragile heart. It pissed me off… but I have to say it was also very funny. I resigned myself to my pathetic situation and hoped to get some better tips (not cock tips, Jeez!).
After a few hundred well wishers’ messages combined with the helpful efforts of volunteers, we still didn’t find the cat. Three weeks later, Rick returned home from Japan. And you know what? Within a day or two, recognizing the sound of Rick’s motorcycle, Juanito reappeared!
Holy shit! WTF! I was happy, but what a headache it had been dealing with the public, not to mention all those sleepless nights. Here I was, one of the few people in America who, when I was looking for a pussy, got nothing but an endless supply of dick pics. And yes, before you ask, I’m still getting photos from that dude — a Christmas dick pic, naturally! Merry fucking Christmas, dickface!
