Wednesday, April 16, 2008

L.A. CAT: THE FLOOD


When I first saw Sargent Court, it was 4:00 a.m. My then-boyfriend lived half a block up the street. We met while I was living in Topanga, licking my wounds over my divorce. Then he asked me to house sit for him while he went to Europe for three weeks.

His landlady lived and managed the Sargent Court Apartments. On the way to the airport at 4:00 a.m., he stopped off to leave his rent check at her door. When we pulled up, he said: "Come on, you've got to see this." In the pre-dawn light that September morning, the massive flowering grounds mystified me. I thought we were in front of a hospital or mental institution. I didn't understand that they were apartments until the day I needed them.

A week later after his return, he suddenly needed to be "alone" blah blah. It coincided with my news that I needed to get out of Topanga because my roommate Rainbow was on the warpath. She had drawn battle lines after I took her to my fave Chinese restaurant and the food made her sick. "You know I only eat raw food!" she screamed. She'd asked to go. I took her. She asked for a salad and they said they didn't have salad.

So I called him and said I needed to talk. We had an awkward dinner. Then I dropped the bomb. He smoked for a while. Then said, "Well, maybe you could live in the apartments. Up on the hill."

We went up the block to see the place again that evening. Fog lay in thick drifting white mists on the grand lawn. It was late. We stood at the hill's edge looking out at the view in silence. I knew it was over.

When I first moved into my apartment, my neighbor Glen gave me the rundown while he weeded his roses: "Don't be surprised if one day, you wake up and find the cat doing the backstroke. It means your water heater broke."

A few weeks later, Chloe woke me up early and when my feet hit the carpet, they sunk into water.

We were outside with a lot of my stuff on the lawn, watching firemen vacuum out the water. They left industrial fans to dry the place out. When Glen heard about the fans, he said, "Oh goodie, cats just love big noisy machines."

I'd been sitting in a daze at a picnic table when Glen sat down next to me, saying: "First, the manager needs to get you a hotel room until your place is dry...Then you need to be financially compensated for hardship."

At that moment, I saw my now-ex-lover saunter across the sidewalk where my furniture was spread out, and firemen were coming and going out of my place. Very happy to see him, I ran up and said, "My water heater broke!" He frowned and said, "Better get someone to vacuum that out. I need to talk to my landlady about my view. She's planning to build a fire escape for the upstairs apartment right in front of my picture window." He lived on the lowest floor of a duplex. His unit was ensconced into a hillside. Then he slid back down the steps to the street, calling over his shoulder: "Put in a good word for me!"

Then the manager appeared and gave me the keys to the place over my ex's apartment, which was empty.

I lugged the essentials to the quaint house. The first essential was Chloe. I put her inside, locked the door and went back for more. When I got back, I couldn't find her. Now I saw that a window was open in the kitchen, large enough for a scared cat to jump through. Hyperventilating and crying, I called The Ex and left a message on his machine that (a) I was going to be living upstairs for four days and (b) I think my cat ran away, so please keep an eye out.

After I had spread my sleeping bag on the hardwood floor, turned on the lamp (the electricity was still on), Chloe came down the stairs. The place was built like a townhouse with an upstairs and she'd been exploring. Relief! It felt right to see her tripping along down the steps, ready to keep me company in this new space.

Chloe didn't care where she was as long as she was with me.

And no, The Jerk (henceforth to be known as) never came up to say hello or ask after the cat. In fact, the following year, when we "got together" again for an ill-fated affair and he saw Chloe, he said: "Oh, I thought you lost her."

Those four days in that empty house with the single lamp and cuddling in the sleeping bag were like camping out. But I didn't care where I was, as long as I was with Chloe.

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