The cat

This is what it looks like. That's all I have to caption here.

Maybe I am a complainer now (see previous post) because of this cat. Which “got out” last week. No, really, it ran out the door when my hands were full. I did make an honest attempt to catch it. I even “bolted” out of my business clothes and put on mud-tolerating shoes to look for the animal. And I did manage to catch, but I made the mistake of treating it like a dog and pulled it by the collar, promptly followed by the cat’s hissing and claw activation. Good. Now it’s perfectly straight in my brain that cats ≠ dogs. In case I was confused earlier…

I decided the sacrifice of my sacred southpaw was not worth this animal’s well-being as it was hissing at me. So I went inside, called my roommate, and felt zero guilt.

Actually, it was more like negative-zero guilt. Like, I was glad it was gone. I think negative-zero on the “guilt side” means pluses on the “happy side.” Guess my PETA membership just expired.

Sadly, it came back. The cat, I mean. That’s to what I am referring when I say “it.” It used to be an outdoor cat, so it knew to get food at 6pm when roomie came back home…it waited for her by her car. And I was sad that it was back.

I told my roommate that one day the cat might not be here. I might “set it free” into the woods near our apartment.

Animals love freedom. Especially domesticated ones who eat from a can on a scheduled routine and don’t respond to human love and affection. Yeah, he’d do real “well” out there. Just like I’d feel really “guilty” about it.

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