Perfection is Hard

Everything would have been perfect in Rabat except for Currun’s evil cat Shameesha. Shameesha was a street cat from the pretty gardens in Oudayas full of fat strays well-food by tourist tour groups feeding them that Currun had taken in (in Morocco dogs are considered dirty. I didn’t ask why because I know from asking about the pork is dirty maxim that there is probably no good reason. Still it means that you see many more stray cats than dogs. In Senegal dogs are only physically not metaphysically dirty.) Shameesha still had her street instincts though and had the bad habit of attacking fingers and toes. She could not be tamed. Currun is in the process of helping her recuperate from the traumas and tribulations she suffered alone out there hustling in the streets, like the white teacher in those “ghetto-school-against-all-the-odds-everything-is-going-to-be-fine-just-donate-to-Teach-For-America movies” where the new teacher inspires his ghetto fuck up kids to learn and pass the SATs or something. So I am sure eventually Currun will make sure Shameesha is the first street cat to go to kitty Harvard, but count me as one of those other students in the class who hates. I think she is pure evil and will never change.