the heartbreaks of the uncaring public and disobedient talentcats

Six year-old Lola decided to put on a show, and she made a big poster:

TODAY! TALLENTCAT!
INTRADOSING HENRY
MY MOM'S CAT (AS I LIKE TO CALL HIM HEN)
hates to be caried
+ RAY CHARELS! FAMILY CAT
C'MON YAALL
WHERE (MY HOUSE/LIVING ROOM)
BOY/GIRL: (FEMALE CAT + BOY CAT)

This was illustrated with garish drawings of Henry and Ray Charles, with lots of sunbursts drawn around them and the text.

Lola put up a label behind the couch reading "SEATS" and a label on the coffee table, "CHILD SEATS." She carefully put cushions on the floor for the anticipated child audience. The poster was taped up on our garage door at Lola's direction, for maximal notice by passers-by.

All day Lola was buzzing with anticipation about how great her show would be. The first heartbreak came when, at the appointed hour of the show, no one came except Mommy, Daddy, and pissy old big sister Iris. Lola was greatly saddened and disappointed and could barely bring herself to go on with the show. Next came heartbreak number two: "tallentcat" Henry refused to perform in any satisfactory manner whatsoever. Ray Charles was not much better. Lola cried, deeply, deeply disappointed and frustrated. Iris, ever eager to grab the spotlight, took over and managed to get Ray Charles to chase a toy about briefly. We applauded this greatly and told Lola it was all the talentcats' fault. "Cats will always let you down," I advised her.

Lola was scarred by this failed foray into show business. Days later she muttered unhappily, "If only we lived on Haight Street, then one hundred people would have come!" She felt bitterly towards all our neighbors and all the people who walk their dogs up and down this street, all too important to come to Lola's talent cat show. I pointed out that all one hundred people would have then been disappointed by the failures of the talentcats to perform, but Lola wasn't cheered up.