yor doin it wrong
Jun. 4th, 2007 11:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7Yor doin it wrong.
Sitting at dinner tonight, on our screened-in back porch, we hear a strange high-pitched sound. After a moment of confused looking around, we realize that it is one of the two competing neighborhood cats, the ginger one. (There is a big black and white fluffy cat named Cookie who comes by now and then, and likes to lie in our street's driveways waiting for someone to either pet him or run him over. Ginger-with-no-collar-or-name is obviously somebody's cat, well-fed but lean, and has been hunting in our yard lately, noisily killing rabbits during Z's naps.)
Gingercat is sitting at the window right next to the table, paws up on the sill, begging for some of Z's grilled chicken. Z talks to him through the screen and the cat grows slightly agitated. Obviously he is used to getting table scraps, at home.
After a moment, Z reaches back and opens the porch door. Gingercat comes to it immediately. He sniffs at the door a moment, comes partway in, hesitates, and then comes the rest of the way in. He immediately makes a beeline for the stairs into the house. "Hey," I say. "The food's over here."
"I think we have a cat now," Z says. "Hey, let's write a note and tie it around his neck. 'We totally stole your cat. What's his name?'"
Gingercat comes over to me, rubs his face on the table leg, and rubs himself on my leg. I pet him. He winds under the table, forgetting to beg for any chicken (I would have given him some, too) and goes right back to the door. So Z lets him out.
He immediately goes around to the window again, which has a screen that does not open, and puts his paws up and resumes begging.
"You're doin' it wrong," Z says.
Z entertains us the rest of the evening by speculating on what we could have written on the gingercat's note we were going to tie around his neck, and what his owners might have written back. "You almost stole our cat? You can keep him." "Naw, we're good. Thanks for eating all our rabbits, though. We didn't want those little bastards in the garden." "Those were YOUR rabbits? He got them all over the carpet?" "...You're the one that keeps letting him back in, dude."
Ahh. Yep. Hypothetical good times.
We think he's from the back fence kitty-corner neighbor, the other kitty-corner one that doesn't play the soul music. He goes over our back fence a lot. But we're not sure. We're considering going over there and asking if he's theirs. But we wouldn't want them to think we were complaining. He's done an awesome job on the vermin.
But he's obviously not the brightest bulb in the shed.
Speaking of not so bright, I feel mostly better but somewhat logy today, and my throat hurts really badly but only when I swallow. Further inspection revealed swollen tonsils bedecked with ugly whitish crap. Not pretty. Not happy. Feeling pretty stupid about waiting for my check last week so I could apply to Healthy NY in all my goddamn spare time this week. But if I send back the COBRA letter that I just got this weekend (how's that for prompt delivery?) how long before it goes into effect???
Also got my huge credit card bill from when I did all that shopping and traveling. Joys! So much for all that money I saved up while waitressing. My paycheck for my first week of work doesn't even pay 1/4 of that bill. Ah well. I'm making marginally more than if I'd spent the summer unemployed, but not much, after taxes. Z's basking in the glow of suddenly being the sugar daddy. Not that he earns much more than me, but a little is important, I suppose. Good for him.
Sitting at dinner tonight, on our screened-in back porch, we hear a strange high-pitched sound. After a moment of confused looking around, we realize that it is one of the two competing neighborhood cats, the ginger one. (There is a big black and white fluffy cat named Cookie who comes by now and then, and likes to lie in our street's driveways waiting for someone to either pet him or run him over. Ginger-with-no-collar-or-name is obviously somebody's cat, well-fed but lean, and has been hunting in our yard lately, noisily killing rabbits during Z's naps.)
Gingercat is sitting at the window right next to the table, paws up on the sill, begging for some of Z's grilled chicken. Z talks to him through the screen and the cat grows slightly agitated. Obviously he is used to getting table scraps, at home.
After a moment, Z reaches back and opens the porch door. Gingercat comes to it immediately. He sniffs at the door a moment, comes partway in, hesitates, and then comes the rest of the way in. He immediately makes a beeline for the stairs into the house. "Hey," I say. "The food's over here."
"I think we have a cat now," Z says. "Hey, let's write a note and tie it around his neck. 'We totally stole your cat. What's his name?'"
Gingercat comes over to me, rubs his face on the table leg, and rubs himself on my leg. I pet him. He winds under the table, forgetting to beg for any chicken (I would have given him some, too) and goes right back to the door. So Z lets him out.
He immediately goes around to the window again, which has a screen that does not open, and puts his paws up and resumes begging.
"You're doin' it wrong," Z says.
Z entertains us the rest of the evening by speculating on what we could have written on the gingercat's note we were going to tie around his neck, and what his owners might have written back. "You almost stole our cat? You can keep him." "Naw, we're good. Thanks for eating all our rabbits, though. We didn't want those little bastards in the garden." "Those were YOUR rabbits? He got them all over the carpet?" "...You're the one that keeps letting him back in, dude."
Ahh. Yep. Hypothetical good times.
We think he's from the back fence kitty-corner neighbor, the other kitty-corner one that doesn't play the soul music. He goes over our back fence a lot. But we're not sure. We're considering going over there and asking if he's theirs. But we wouldn't want them to think we were complaining. He's done an awesome job on the vermin.
But he's obviously not the brightest bulb in the shed.
Speaking of not so bright, I feel mostly better but somewhat logy today, and my throat hurts really badly but only when I swallow. Further inspection revealed swollen tonsils bedecked with ugly whitish crap. Not pretty. Not happy. Feeling pretty stupid about waiting for my check last week so I could apply to Healthy NY in all my goddamn spare time this week. But if I send back the COBRA letter that I just got this weekend (how's that for prompt delivery?) how long before it goes into effect???
Also got my huge credit card bill from when I did all that shopping and traveling. Joys! So much for all that money I saved up while waitressing. My paycheck for my first week of work doesn't even pay 1/4 of that bill. Ah well. I'm making marginally more than if I'd spent the summer unemployed, but not much, after taxes. Z's basking in the glow of suddenly being the sugar daddy. Not that he earns much more than me, but a little is important, I suppose. Good for him.
