The Incident with Midnight
I have on my front patio one of
those plastic chairs that has "columns" on the back--slats--that narrow
as they reach from the top to the bottom. Well, about nine this morning
I hear this horrible caterwauling. I thought some creature was
attacking the Posse. But when I looked out the window, most of the
Posse members were just sitting there eating and glancing at the side of
the house. So, being the cattamanarian that I am, I went outside to see
what was going on. It seems Midnight had somehow got his front paws
stuck at the bottom of the slats on the chair. He was not a happy
kitten. And they were stuck. I had to cut off the slats in order to
free the little rascal. Was he grateful for the help? Was there the
slightest thank meow? Right. He called me every fowl--I mean,
foul--cat word in his little vocabulary. (Cat's don't know fowl
language, do they?) And he hissed at me the entire time I was cutting
him loose. And took off like a streak of black lightning once he was
out. Interestingly the rest of the Posse just watched the entire
rescue. MC's indifference didn't surprise me--I am accepted into her
world. But Tiger and the two baby Tigers had to come and watch as well.
Normally, they run like crazy when I come out. Oh well, when Midnight
hit the bushes the whole Posse went with him--even Momma Calico. Ah,
the joys of country living. There are just no thankful cats in this
world. Sigh.
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