Yesterday morning as I'm getting ready for work one of my neighbors cats starts freaking out, thumping against the french doors. She obviously wanted my attention. So I stand there look at her and then try to hide from her. All the while thinking of my phobia of mice and wondering did she see a mouse run in here? Does she want to come eat it for me? And then my brain rewinds to the horror of letting a cat inside one time only to have to call for help to get the blasted cat back outside. Visions of mice running around won out and I opened the door. The cat didn't even try to come in, she just continued to meow and run in circles, weird. So I think maybe she's hungry and I lovingly get her a piece of ham which she doesn't touch. She just continues her freak out routine. At this point I'm totally confused. "Look Cat, I'm no Timmy and you're a cat, not Lassie." I thought only Dogs were suppose to be all intuitive little saviors? "Sorry Cat, I hope nothing bad went down in the woods, I obviously don't speak cat."
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Kitty Cat Freak Out
My mother is a lover of all walking, living creatures. She has a house full of young-uns and a back yard full of critters. She's in line for Sainthood, I'm not. I don't speak animal. My mother worried about me as a child, I never asked for animals, I loathed the zoo expect for the big sugary suckers found in the gift shops. I'm just not an animal-pet type of girl. Lest anyone wants to offer me on a pitchfork to PETA, let me say I wish animals no harm.