Diary of a Mad Cat Lady
by Dennis

I don't know why I'm bothering writing this. It's not like my life is interesting enough to merit recounting. And it was a deal of work finding the typewriter under all the newspaper. But that's neither here nor there.

Once upon a time, I prided myself on doing the right thing, the honest thing. And I did. All through high school and college, I made sure that I was in the right. I even gave a speech about it at high school commencement. Everyone said it was a great speech, but now I wish I'd clubbed the principal with my award and gone on my merry way.

Where was I? Oh, yes, treating people with honesty and candor. Like I said, I treated people with forthright honesty and expected to be treated the same way. Needless to say, I didn't have too many friends. I had one special friend back in high school. She was a lot of fun to be around, a real laugh, and willing to try things I wasn't. She also forgave me for the few times I didn't treat her honestly. That was important. It's funny how time and tides pull you apart. She and I stayed in touch for over twenty years before we drifted apart, but that only gets me to my forties, which means I've spent a good thirty years since then. I wonder where she is.

College, I had a few friends, but we mostly drifted apart right after school. I was determined to make it as a writer, and I did. Had a opinion column with a major news outlet for thirty-five years before I retired, or was retired. Same thing, really. The problem is being an opinion writer isn't a collaborative process. Well, at the time, it wasn't a problem. I thought it was a blessing. But then I suppose I've always been narcissistic to the point of solipsism. The ironic thing is, I always thought that was my sister, not me. But more about her later.

Anyway, for a long time, my column was in newsfeeds every week. Editors came and editors went, the medium of transmission changed, but my column was always there. Actually, you'd be surprised how little the business changed while I was in it. At the end, though, my editor was a kid young enough to be my grandson, and he just didn't get me. I might have kept my column if someone stood up for me, but there was no one there to. The few people I'd had real contact with were long gone. I was just this funny old relic bitching about what was wrong once a week, like Diogenes. I'd neglected to weave a cloak to protect me when the wind blew strong enough to put out my lamp.

I was in love a few times. I even got married once, but he died young. Ten happy years and no children and then one day, a sudden heart attack and he was gone. I was inconsolable then, but now it's just a dull ache. I often think of my old high school boyfriend, though. He really wanted to stay together, but I felt it would be dishonest. I was right, too. We were at the end of our road when I broke it off. He hadn't noticed that when he was dating my friend, and he ended up kissing me while they were still going out. Like I said, there were times I was less than honest, but Jane forgave me. Looking back it all seems kind of exciting, but at the time, I think I mostly wanted to puke.

I remember talking to my mom about it. Mom was funny. She was totally hung up on her career. I mean we could go weeks without seeing her, but when she reappeared, there were times she could see right through to the core of me. She's long gone now. So's Dad. He couldn't see three inches past his nose, so he never saw us. But I miss him. I miss them both. My aunts are gone, too, and I never see my cousin. It's just me and my sister now. Her four kids are all grown up, so she's stuck looking for things to do, too. I guess that's why she comes by so much. Not that I mind. We didn't always get along, especially in high school. She was very self-involved. It wasn't until later that she got over it and I realized that I was the one who was really self-involved.

We get along better now. I think we understand each other. Anyway, I should stop this. There's not really any point to rehashing the past. Besides, I think my sister's at the door. I'm grateful for the help. Fifteen cats take a lot of feeding and cleaning, more than one old lady can manage.

From Diary of a Mad Cat Lady
by Daria Morgendorffer

Author's Note: This ficlet was inspired by an Iron Chef posted by MMan, asking for part of the autobiography of one of the characters. The basis for the story is taken from my favorite part of Is It College Yet?: Daria's exchange with Quinn after breaking up with Tom. "You can help me feed the cats."

Disclaimer: Daria and all characters are copyright MTV 1997-2002. I own nothing and am merely along for the ride.