The adventures never end.
A beautiful young lady on a bicycle, with the helmet and all the gear, no doubt a college student from the college a few doors down, knocked on my door. I egotistically thought my luck is changing, they’re coming to me now. With a smile, I asked “can I help you?”
I never believed it when old folks told me all the young kids look good. Now I know. But this girl was particularly pretty. She smiled back at me and said “is that your dead cat?” The romance was over.
So I walked up by the road with her, and there was this beautiful tiger-striped cat with a white bib, a big one, that was dead as a door nail. I checked for a collar, and there was none. But this was obviously someone’s cat, very well groomed.
I turned to her and I said “it doesn’t have a collar so we don’t know who it belongs to.” And then I asked her “do you want it?” A feeble attempt at humor. She smiled and cycled away.
I called the dead cat hotline, 911, and reported it. I hate to bug the great boys in Blue about such a thing, but I actually didn’t know who to call. In younger days, with no tags, I would’ve put it in a trash bag in my trash can. But with the taxes I pay now, I’m planning on watching the Dunwoody Circus come out and caucus about it, and hopefully have it gone in a day or two.
More to follow.
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