And now for something completely different. . .

When I’m not stressing about examinations or stumbling through a caffeine-powered night shift (or sleeping), I enjoy hanging out with my character trip-hazard of a cat. 

She’s a Maine-Coon style beastie I acquired about three years ago from a nice lady who stated that said cat was “trying to kill her mother.”  Since this sounded quite extraordinary, of course I had to adopt her. (Turns out the prior owner’s elderly mother had quite a lot of vision deficits – couple that challenge with a cat that insists on following your every move and enjoys being at your feet – and you’ve got a recipe for  disaster.)

Her hobbies include coughing up hairballs, hunting for spiders in closets and cupboards, sleeping, chasing squirrels, and planking.

Cat Planking the Couch

 But she has another life, it seems.  She becomes quite antsy in the morning if she isn’t allowed out, ostensibly to perform cat activities such as hunting and, well, eliminating in the neighbor’s barkdust garden.  However, she also apparently has quite the social life.  I’ve seen her zigzag across the neighborhood from house to house, where she waits patiently at patio doors until unsuspecting neighbors (her “regulars”) let her in for treats and company.

She’s vanished overnight, only to be found locked in a neighbor’s car (thank goodness it wasn’t August).  Additionally, she’s acquired a new bowl, given to her by her neighbors across the street (her favorite friends) when they put their home on the market and moved out.  Once, she accompanied the girl-child on a walk to a nearby grade school, and didn’t come home because she got too tuckered out to walk back (cats are sprinters, not marathoners).  When she was gone overnight, we put out the alert to all the neighbors to watch for her.  We located her the next day – crouching in the ivy median in the middle of the street near the school, patiently waiting for her hoomans to get a clue and come get her.  Bless the neighbors – after that incident, we went through a week of various folks showing up at our door with her, proudly proclaiming “Hey, I found your cat!”

But this evening was a first!  She came home with a small lump taped to her flea collar.  A quick snip of the ol’ trauma shears (yeah, I know, they’re so fun to use! – and not just for cutting those annoying non-IV gowns off patients admitted to our floor from the ER!) revealed a ziplock bag containing a note:

Creepy Cat Note

Oh for heaven’s sake, I thought – what flippin’ now??? 

With no small amount of trepidation, I called the number on the note, hoping it didn’t belong to the owner of a pet hamster or mouse consumed by my darling furball, or worse.  Instead of an ear blistering, I got a lovely chat about how much fun our cat is when she comes to visit their family (and their two macaws, who apparently don’t intimidate her in the least).  The writer of the note had been enjoying visits from her for about two years, and finally, curiosity got the best of him (lucky for him he’s not a cat, right?) and he just had to know about her “permanent” family.
I’m happy el gato has such a vibrant social life, and that we apparently live in the nicest neighborhood in the entire world (because there are other places where people might try to keep her permanently, take her to the pound, or worse) – but a bit concerned that she has more friends than the entire rest of the family put together.  But, I guess that’s a side effect of working nights, after all.

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