I like going on car rides. I sit in the safety of my travel bag and watch the sky through the back window, feeling the engines rumble and hum. But, when I am held in the front seat, it can only mean one thing: The vet. What had I done? My work was exemplary. There is no vomiting or limping. My poop is solid, well-shaped, and tastes great out of the oven. (I know many of you find this behavior disgusting, but humans have been eating poop for years without knowing it. Why do you think you must poke the Pillsbury Doughboy to get pasty? And have you ever asked yourself where elves living in the middle of the woods get fudge?) I am a post-pandemic baby and am well-adapted to the new rules. Instead of being cheesed off that I have to wait in the car until it is time for the vet to see me and that both of my parents can't go into the office, I am happy one is allowed, remembering those cold days of my youth when I had to solo the visit. Luckily, we were the first appointment after
Black Bart's day of reckoning had arrived. When he was on the mortal side, he was a kitty with an attitude. He was aggressive with other cats and often attacked. Black Cat never let on that he was jealous. He didn’t get any love from his family, and seeing a well-loved feline like Tom Cat enraged him. One day when Tom Cat was gently playing in his yard, Black Bart stalked him, and when Tom let his guard down, Black Bart attacked. Tom tried to fight back, but Black Bart was a skilled brawler. Tom Cat got away, leaving his home and making him susceptible to nature, some of which only saw him as a cog in the food chain. After a few days and several years added to Tom’s parents' lives, he returned home, looking like an inexperienced cat does when they are not protected from the elements. It was nothing a little parental love wouldn’t cure. Black Bart stopped stalking Tom, and soon he was a bitter memory. When Bart went to the Bridge, he was given full privileges with the underst
