…but oh, that Yellow Cat Next Door.
He lies in the middle of my driveway or the middle of our street like a poet having a bad day.
He uses our flowerbeds as his litterbox. Which might not be a big deal if dogs weren’t inclined to say, “Ooooooo. Chocolate protein snack bars!”
He sleeps on my front porch so my dogs can see him through the door and hurl themselves into paroxysms of cat-loathing rage. When I’m on the phone. Or sleeping.
He’s a sounder sleeper than I and can nap on top of the fence in the back yard while dogs try to climb the tree to get to him.
Saturday morning, he did a victory dance through his yard, our yard, and the yards of three other neighbors with a bird in his mouth.
That’s right: I’m living next door to murder in a fur coat.
That cat is a real asshole.
That cat looks very Pet Semetary to me — you know the one that came back from the dead. Don’t you have to behead it or something?
Oh, MAN, did that story freak me out. Stephen King stories are a little too close to reality when you live in Maine.
After Needful Things I would have left .. seriously. All that turkewy shit on the sheets, someone hanging Raider, I don’t need that! You sir are a brave man if you live in Maine
I don’t live there anymore. My family still does. After Children of the Corn I got the hell out of there.
I don’t blame you — pre-teen bastards ards dressed like little Amish demons? No thank you I’ll pass… Where are you now.
In Houston. I live in Becky’s backyard, under the oleander.
three words
TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE
Does Becks have any large lawn equipment about — if so , beware …
Oh, and I walk into work today, and guess what started playing on the radio One Thing by INXS — I head three INXS songs tonight … what is Michael trying to tell me?!
You’re one of his kind.
do you mean like “hey Marika like me you will look incredibly hot in tight leather pants?” Because if that’s it Michael is a LIAR
I most indeed am
Two Words:
Tin Foil = Works against aliens… works on cats. You can’t lose.