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Kevin II: The ReKevining (or, The Cat Came Back).

Actually, the cat never left. It was Kevin who came back, drawn by a cat he could not live without, a cat who lived alone with him on the surface of the sun, a cat who, he sometimes insisted, was the only real being in the universe apart from himself. We know this because he told us, because he yelled it at the paramedics and the cops and the social workers.

What, you think the story ended back here? Kevin came back: god, fire-starter, lost soul, Madonna fan, raving psychotic. Voice in the night; even when we weren’t out there in the rain trying to talk him down, the nights we lay in the dark staring at the ceiling outnumbered those we slept through.

Things have calmed down over the past few days. Finally, Kevin and Blueberry seem to be warm and dry and in no immediate danger. But it’s been— eventful.

I related the front end of the story back on Oct 16. Today, Caitlin brings you up to date over on her blog, with insight and eloquence I can only aspire to. It’s not a comprehensive history, to be sure; she doesn’t mention the time Kevin appeared in our bedroom, for one thing. She downplays her own relentless research into his past in search of some key to his present— the sister she tracked down (a roboticist at Amazon), the acquaintance who pulled away after Kevin started insisting that Madonna was sending him secret messages with her eyes.  The reappearance of Littler Cop, who told us that Kevin was a crackhead and could well be dangerous no matter what we thought. So many individual encounters escape mention. It’s a record of fragments and impressions, and really, that’s the best way to tell this story; looking back, fragments and impressions is how memory serves up the recent past to me as well. Maybe it’s just lack of sleep.

So look upon her works, ye middlers, and despair. But also take hope: the ending of this tale, if not happy, is at least hopeful.

Which is probably why I could never have written it myself.

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