So, my traitorous cat, Petruchio, ran out on me last night. That rat-bastid was seduced by the abnormally warm weather we’re having in the Kansas City area; usually he and his sister, Katharina (lovingly labeled, the two, as “The Shrew Twins”) back away from the cold air (silly putty-tats) when the main door is open (leaving the screen door in their way).
Last night, however, bitten my the faux spring cleaning bug, I decided to clean my carpets. So, as I was going through the front door to dump out the dirty water from the steam cleaner, Petruchio races through the door into Ma Nature’s warm and loving arms.
Except, of course, it’s gonna get cold and Ma Nature’s gonna kick his AWOL butt fairly soon.
So what did I do? I waited up until 5:00 this morning, hoping that he would yowl at the door to be let back in. Which he didn’t. And which means I only got a half-hour’s worth of sleep. Which means that work sucks right now because I’m worried about this neutered, front-claws-missing, year-old cat running around without me to protect him. (Or for that matter, his sister. He’s fairly gentle while she, as they say, is a hellcat.)
Stupid cat. When he comes back home I’m gonna skin him and use him for mittens.
And he’s back! Apparently he decided to camp out underneath the porch once he found out that, no, no one but his much belabored daddy-o cares about him. Except for the local coyotes, that is. But in a much different way.
He was dirty, scared and scrunched up into a corner (oh, and hungry to boot), so I had to coax him to come on out, but eventually he saw the wisdom of my ways (legless food and warmth vs. freakin’ cold air and food that you have to chase) and came back inside.
His sister now hates him because he smells different–which should teach him a lesson about the disappointment family feels when he runs out like that. Of course, Katharina will learn a lesson about loneliness herself because she already hates the dog and those two are her only companions throughout most of the day.
You know, Gary T, I would absolutely love to take credit for at least some of the some of the food at our DopeFest, but alas, the most I was able to provide were plastic-wrapped humdrum items that, although seem to be omnipresent at every gathering, are anything but exciting.
Or maybe that’s what you meant.
As it was, however, all the delicious foods were provided by the rest of you Dopers. (Which, of course, you’re all very, very welcome to keep providing me if you feel the need to feed an empty, appreciative stomach.)
