So I’m upstairs working on the new issue of The Red Pages, the Tomb Raider soundtrack blasting, and I hear, dimly, mom calling me.
“What?” I holler back.
“We need you, a cat got outside.”
Now, back in the day, this would’ve been no problem; all our cats were indoor/outdoor kitties. But no longer. Zephyr and Mauser are too young (I got fed up with chasing wandering male kittens across town with “Lost Cat” fliers a long time ago), and Sunny is too frickin’ ancient.
So I swear, pull on my shoes, swear some more, and go downstairs. Zephyr was out back, hiding in Mom’s tubs.
And what was this silly kitten doing?
Crying. “Mom, mom, I’m scared!”
But when I call him and try to pick him up, what does he do?
Try to get away.
Silly cat. When Dad and I finally trapped him and got him inside, he was completely spazzed out. Sheesh.
Between him and Shane, who’s having some kind of allergic reaction and has scraped off all the hair and most of the skin under his chin and is running a fever from the resulting infection, I sometimes wonder why I have animals in my life.
(For photos of the critters mentioned above, go here.)
Silly Kitty So I’m upstairs