I spend a lot of time during the day snuggled on Mommy’s lap. So when nighttime comes and the house lights go out, sometimes I am filled with energy. I slip out of bed and walk around the house until I tire.
Occasionally, I hear our crawl space cat, Dora, listening to music and smoking a late-night catnip cigarette. I have just decided to tolerate her presence since my efforts to remove her have failed. During my late-night romp, we swapped stories.
I barked at her to say hello, then asked if she had any good stories. She did, about her grandmother born in that long-ago time called 2021. She was a house cat who was a bit finicky. The only food she would eat is Friskies seafood melody with shrimp. One day, a tragedy occurred. The cupboard was bare.
Her mother knew how the cat, Olympia, acted when she didn’t get fed the correct food, and she did not want to go through that hell again. The mom came back with groceries two hours later. She emptied the bags Olympia jumped on the table and waited until she had finished. There was no Friskies seafood melody with shrimp anywhere to be seen.
Olympia wailed in sorrow.
“I am sorry Olympia,” the mom said, “but they were out of your food.” Olympia stared at her. “And yes,” the mom continued, "I went to other stores, Hannaford’s, Big Y, Piggly Wiggly, and Menard's, none of them have it so you are going to have to settle for what I give you.”
Olympia rolled over and stretched.
“I can’t go to stores out of town, I have work to do, I need to make the kid’s and John’s dinner, and I am tired. I will check the other stores in the morning.”
Olympia whined.
“I don’t know what to do,” Olympia’s mom pleaded with her. Olympia sat up and then looked upstairs at the bedroom
“You wouldn’t,” the mom said. “John’s brother and I were in our bedroom when he was at work because there was a sticky window.” Olympia purred but it sounded like a chuckle.
Olympia’s mom turned on the cat. “You aren’t telling John anything. You open your mouth and I will kick you out to, I swear.” Olympia licked her paw and cleaned her whiskers. “All right!” his mom yelled. “Fine!” she scribbled a note to her husband. “I’ll find your damn food, even if I have to drive three states over, I can’t stand your damn mind games any longer.”
She returned three hours late having found the required food at a Bodega deep in the city. She opened the can, put the food in a disk, and served it to Olympia, who took one sniff, and walked away, leaving her mom sobbing on her knees in the kitchen,”\ I had to admit, that was a good story. I was ready to sleep now.
Don’t be hasty in getting rid of a freeloading feral on your property.
They have great stories.
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