Best Stories Of The Week, So Far…March 4th

Monday:  I’m in the Park crossing the Great Lawn walking gingerly over ice, when I see a young man charging towards me, in shorts no less. I say, hey, be careful, it’s very icy.

If looks could kill, I’d be in Jersey.

Well guess who slid at top speed as if he were stealing Third?

Tuesday:  I’m having a bad day. My favorite gold necklace, among other things, is tangled up in blue, to quote Dylan, so I go to the chain smoking, grumpy jeweler down the block to see if he’ll free it from bondage.

He does, with a grunt and a sneer, as tears slide down my face since, it’s the nicest thing that’s happened all day. After asking if I owe him anything, he waves me away. As I leave he asks, framed in smoke, in his thick Israeli accent, “Why do you cry?”

“Cause I’m having a bad day.”

“It will be alright, ” he says, with a grunt and a sneer, a cigarette ash about to fall onto the clock he’s fixing.

That’s all anyone ever wants to hear, even while coughing trapped in a cloud of Camel Non-Filters.

Wednesday:  I get a note from Patrick the Cat’s father saying, after his yearly trip to the vet, Patty won’t eat.

Hes very worried. Was wondering if maybe I could invite him over, entice him with a snack.

Only in New York.

So, I of course say yes, even though all I have is a very expensive jar of caviar leftover from this over-the-top Xmas basket (that could have paid my rent) I’ve been saving.

It was 8 a.m. so the thought of fish eggs didn’t quite go with my oatmeal and if Patrick wasn’t in the mood either, then what, I’d waste it.

See, once caviar is opened, like champagne, it goes flat.

Be that as it may, life’s short, and what are pals for anyway.

“Patrick, how bout a little fish to start off the day?” He doesn’t answer. He sits and stares making me wish I had put a little make-up on.

I then open it, placing it on the floor. He walks away.

Shit, I think, disappearing into the kitchen.

When I come back he’s eating like Orson Welles.

“A little milk to wash it down perhaps?” I ask, smiling.

He grunts and sneers.

“I know Patrick, but I’m all outta vodka.  🙂   



About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Thanks.
This entry was posted in animals, Culture, friendship, grace, Health, humanity, humor, Love, New York City, words, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

38 Responses to Best Stories Of The Week, So Far…March 4th

  1. skinnyuz2b says:

    I’m assuming that the fellow who fell blamed his fall on you for distracting him. After all, it couldn’t be his own fault.
    I hope Patrick’s palate isn’t spoiled now or his father might have to sue you for cat support, ha ha! We have a spoiled feral cat with a broken front paw. It took all fall to get her to come into the breezeway to eat. She now sleeps under a heat lamp and prefers canned food to dry. Gimpy is still semi-wild, but completely spoiled. But no caviar yet!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m sweating just thinking about the chain. One thing about NYC it’s the city that has everything at its fingertips, including chain untanglers.
    As for Patrick, oh he knows the deal. Sounds like Patrick was just tired of Fancy Feast and male company.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. RosieJoseph says:

    ‘He’s eating like Orson Wells’ made me laugh out loud. I love your blogs. ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  4. You worked your lovely magic on Patrick! Caviar, no less! You are over the top, Susannah!

    I laughed at Camel non-filters. What a fragrance! The jeweler — kindness comes in all shapes and sizes.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I think I liked the idea of having a jar more than actually eating it since, it’s an acquired taste one that eludes me a bit still. Just give me salmon instead, any old time. As for Patrick. I think he was a Cat King, in another life.

      And the jeweler is a character alright. You leave him your Cartier watch to fix, and he’ll ask for a deposit. I said to him once, but you have my good watch that if I sold, could send me to Paris. No deposit, cough cough. 🙂


  5. I loved the three stories, Susannah. You tried to warn the guy. Oh well, Karma’s a bitch. Can’t imagine unfiltered Camels in this day and age—nice guy to help you through. I’m glad Patrick could see the wisdom of accepting a gift from a gracious giver. I liked your description of the basket too. Behind it, I imagined someone who cared. 😊

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Patricia says:

    There were times this winter that I was all bundled up for my walk and I would see someone in shorts and a tee-shirt running. It would make me shake my head in wonder then I would feel old.
    The jeweler is probably a nice guy who thinks it’s a weakness showing it. As for Patrick, I think he just wanted to see his friend so he staged a hunger strike. It was a win-win for both of you.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Sorryless says:

    I haven’t had caviar since the Russian Tea Room, my kids were still pleasant little creatures who thought I was Superman. So when I introduced them to the stuff, they took to it like PB&J. And I KNOW my daughter would’ve canoodled with Patrick, for sure.

    Liked by 1 person

    • When I was a young twitty model, I went to the opening of The Caviar Bar in London where waiters stood with buckets filled you could scoop onto your plate with no edit. I remember thinking, why do people like this. It tastes like cat food, as if it was part of my regular diet, and when you’re up and coming and broke, could certainly find its way over rice, so it just might be in every cat’s DNA. Patrick of course, is no dummy, being a cool cat and all, living in ole Noo Yawk. Good morning Mr. Imma. I believe there are a few heroes in my immediate future. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  8. robprice59 says:

    A while back, I read that cats have twenty-seven muscles in each ear, just so they can studiously ignore you from any angle.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. I love these stories, Susannah. They are always so eloquent and authentic. You write all living creatures better than almost anyone I’ve read, seriously.
    your friend

    Liked by 1 person

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