Actually, it's not my cat. It's a feral cat that cruises the neighborhood and usually stops by my place a couple times a week and stares at me through my French doors.
It's a prostitute feral cat. On its first visit, two years ago, it let me pet it in exchange for a piece of salmon patty. Over the months I've developed a good enough of a relationship to get "freebies" though an occasional slice of pepperoni helps to keep things on a business standing.
I'm also good friends with a catbird...do you see the conflict coming?
The catbird has its own view of how I should be interacting with the cat.
And the cat has it's own unique perspective -
I'm just the poor guy in the middle trying to get everyone to get along.
The baseball bat's not real, by the way. It exists in the bird's imagination. What I'm actually holding is an umbrella, a la Neville Chamberlain.
Still hoping to achieve "peace in our time",
No comments:
Post a Comment