Friday, November 13, 2015

Lost kitty, found kitty

I was relaxing upstairs, reading in bed, after my Jasmine-scented Epsom bath.  Next thing I know, Kitten is yowling like she's being tortured.  I ran downstairs to see what the fuck was going on, even though I had a pretty good idea.  You see, she only makes that noise when she sees another cat.  Because she's socially retarded and can't get along with anyone. 

There on my back porch is a cute orange cat looking in at us.  I tried to quiet Kitten down and reassure her, but she didn't fully calm down until he left, about five minutes later.  I had thought about feeding him, but I didn't want to encourage him to hang out and make her insane, which in turn makes me insane.

I went back upstairs and was just getting comfy again when I heard a commotion out the front this time.  People yelling something about an orange cat.  I ran back downstairs and carefully slipped out the front so Kitten couldn't follow.  The last thing I needed was a cat-fight.  I found the owners of the orange cat and told them I had just seen him. 

They went running into my backyard, but of course he was gone.  The wife told me that Kitten goes to their house some mornings and yowls at poor, old, decrepit Thoreau through the window.  Don't I feel like an asshole, the mother of a bully.  Neighbor lady seemed to think they're just chatty friends, so I didn't disabuse her of that notion. 

I went out back and peered into the bushes, half scared that the possum would come charging out.  No kitty and no possum (thankfully).  I left Kitten on guard duty for the night.  I knew she'd alert me if he came back. 

It turns out she didn't alert me, but the dog next door did.  There I was trying to fkn read again, and the yappy dog next door was going nutters.  I went out back again, and there was the kitty, next door.  His owner scooped him up, there was much rejoicing, and everyone lived happily ever after.  

Now, can I relax?

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