The Boy Next Door - Weebly

To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: It happened
I wore my short black Calvin Klein wraparound skirt, with my vee-necked light blue three
quarter sleeve silk sweater and matching blue ankle strap sandals with the three inch heels.
We didn't end up going anywhere. Not for dinner, anyway.
YES.
It did.
Okay, well, not really, but almost. What happened was, I was just applying my final
layer of lipstick when there was a knock on my door. I went to answer it. It was John. He
actually had on a tie! I couldn't believe it. He looked great--only really worried. So I was
all, What's wrong?
And he went, It's Tweedle-dum. Something's the matter with him. Would you mind
coming to take a look? So I went and took a look, and sure enough, Tweedle-dum, who is quite the
more active and affectionate of Mrs. Friedlander's two cats, was lying underneath the
dining room table looking like a little kid who had eaten too many of those Neco Wafers. He
didn't want anybody touching him, and growled when I tried to.
Anyway, I suddenly remembered something, and I went, Oh my God, have you been
removing the rubberbands from around the Chronicles when you bring them in? Because
you know the Chronicle thinks so well of itself that it always come bound in a sing
rubberband, to keep the sections from falling out, since its customers would freak out if
one single part was missing and they happened not to get their financial news or whatever.
And John went, "No. Am I supposed to?" And that's when I realized I had forgotten to tell him
the most important thing about cat and dog sitting for his aunt: "Tweedle-dum eats
rubberbands.
So did his brother, Tweedle-dee. Which is why Tweedle-dee is no longer with us.
We've got to get this cat to the hospital right away!" I cried. John looked stunned. "You're
kidding, right?" No, I'm serious. I went and got the cat carrier down from where Mrs.
Friedlander has always kept it, on the top shelf of her linen closet. Wrap him in a towel.
John just kept standing there. "You're actually serious." "I am totally serious," I said. We have
to get the rubberband removed before it perforates something.
Actually, I have no idea if a rubberband could perforate something, but you could tell just
by looking at Tweedle-dum's glazed eyes that he was one sick animal.
So John got a towel and we bundled Tweedle-dum up (John sustained several evil-looking
scratches before he accomplished this) and took him to the Animal Medical Center, which
is where I know Mrs. Friedlander took Tweedle-dee when he had his fatal encounter with
the rubberband off a copy of the Chronicle. I know because she asked mourners to send
them a donation in lieu of flowers after Tweedle-dee's demise. The minute we walked in,
they took Tweedle-dum and rushed him off to x-ray. Then there was nothing we could do but
wait and pray. But it was kind of hard to sit and pray, you know, when all I could think about