Yesterday I stopped to visit my kitty friends on my way to Nickels
Arcade, where I intended to and did enjoy a pain au chocolat. (Side
note: how can anyone get anything done at Comet? The baristas were chat
chat chatting away with the customers, and there were so many people
going back and forth, that I couldn't stop listening and watching. It
was great, but I didn't get a lot of reading done.) I met with early
success—the mother cat retreated to under the porch, and the kitten,
lulled by my flicking-leaves-with-leaf-stems ways, allowed me to pet its
head and its chin and its back. It didn't quite get that it was
supposed to enjoy it though. I tried to pick it up, but the mother's
head popped out, hissing ferociously, so I gave up.
She hates me.
She hates me.
2 comments:
My friend and I found a kitten and it followed us back to her apartment a couple weeks ago. We (well, she) named it HungryCat McTabbybusiness, and I just called it "The Business". She did find its owner, though.
I came upon a calico in my neighborhood late last night that was quite friendly. I half-hoped it would follow me home, because, hey, cats! But it didn't, and that's probably for the best because my apartment is already a feline warzone.
That's a hilarious/functional name.
Today I stopped by to see these cats and there was a little sign telling people not to feed them after sometime yesterday because Monday afternoon they were probably taking them to the Humane Society and if they were hungry they would be bribable/trickable.
I'm going to miss them.
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