from the continuing adventures of "Me & the Cat I Was Supposed to Catsit that Ran Away 2 Days After Owner's Departure"
Episode XI: this mornings email to the owner:
[there are many references to my inability to whistle. let me explain: I can't whistle. at a previous job at a construction site I was forced to, whenever a "Hot Mamma" would walk by, carve the air in a curvy shape with my hands, make playful groinal thrusts & kissing noises. JUST kissing noises. this is not nearly as seductive as it is with the whistling, & as a consequence all I recieved were invitations to "Go [pleasure]" myself & I became disillusioned with the construction game & moved on. anyway, the cat in question comes when whistled for & I, in some kinda crazy science fiction twist, cannot whistle)
(ahem):
hey there,
on the one hand, I don't want to get your hopes up, but on the other, I think I saw Sylvia last night.
I've been putting out food for her on the front stoop for a while now, & whenever I feed the other cats I've been rattling the can opener at the front door & trying to whistle (which would be funny if it weren't so sad.) last night, late for work already, I'd left the front door open & was in the kitchen cramming the last bit of Lunch into the food satchel, when Flopper [my cat]puffed out & gave a low, throaty & prolonged yowl of warning.
I investigated, not unlike teen sleuth Nancy Drew investigating clanking chains in the basement of the Smuggler's Lair.
there was a dark little cat outside, likewise puffed. I got Flopper in a Fireman's carry & hoisted him inside & shut the door behind me & went towards dark little cat, making soothing noises & my pathetic parody of a whistle, which had about the volume of a freshly opened can of Pringles.
dark little cat was coy, ever so coy.
I walked towards her (if it was, indeed, her) crouched & soothing, assuming that the neighbors will just think I'm a closet Satanist harvesting a victim for my next sacrifice.
she approached. she backed away. she approached a little bit. she backed off a way bunch.
I formulated a clever plan.
I said, "Don't move Sylvia", & made don't-move hand motions, which she seemed to understand perfectly.
I went in, drank a tall cool glass of water (I seem to whistle slightly less badly after a nice, cool glass of water) grabbed the can opener & a can of tuna & went back out, sort of whistling like Bob Dylan plays the harmonica.
little dark cat had melted into the shadows.
I rattled, I contorted my lips & blew. I announced that it was, indeed, tuna that she saw before her. (I also placated the Prince of Darkness, "Be Patient, my Dark Lord, be patient..." for the neighbors.)
I opened up the tuna can & drained it, extolling it's nourishing tastiness to the shadows.
little dark cat, alas, did not disengage from said shadows.
I went to the car, got my MagLite (the choice of professionals) & swept the area around the house, making a sort of a wet chirping noise.
no luck, & I was very late for work. I left the tuna on the front stoop & hoped she'd get some of it before it was frozen solid & went to work.
when I got home, there were a few dents in the tuna & it looked like the catfood had gone down a bit. I tried to whistle some more & did more rattling with the can opener, but nope.
with the weak light on the porch I couldn't be sure it was her, but it felt like her.
like I said, I don't want to get your hopes up.
anyway, I'll try & call later today, okay?
love & kisses,
--D
Episode XI: this mornings email to the owner:
[there are many references to my inability to whistle. let me explain: I can't whistle. at a previous job at a construction site I was forced to, whenever a "Hot Mamma" would walk by, carve the air in a curvy shape with my hands, make playful groinal thrusts & kissing noises. JUST kissing noises. this is not nearly as seductive as it is with the whistling, & as a consequence all I recieved were invitations to "Go [pleasure]" myself & I became disillusioned with the construction game & moved on. anyway, the cat in question comes when whistled for & I, in some kinda crazy science fiction twist, cannot whistle)
(ahem):
hey there,
on the one hand, I don't want to get your hopes up, but on the other, I think I saw Sylvia last night.
I've been putting out food for her on the front stoop for a while now, & whenever I feed the other cats I've been rattling the can opener at the front door & trying to whistle (which would be funny if it weren't so sad.) last night, late for work already, I'd left the front door open & was in the kitchen cramming the last bit of Lunch into the food satchel, when Flopper [my cat]puffed out & gave a low, throaty & prolonged yowl of warning.
I investigated, not unlike teen sleuth Nancy Drew investigating clanking chains in the basement of the Smuggler's Lair.
there was a dark little cat outside, likewise puffed. I got Flopper in a Fireman's carry & hoisted him inside & shut the door behind me & went towards dark little cat, making soothing noises & my pathetic parody of a whistle, which had about the volume of a freshly opened can of Pringles.
dark little cat was coy, ever so coy.
I walked towards her (if it was, indeed, her) crouched & soothing, assuming that the neighbors will just think I'm a closet Satanist harvesting a victim for my next sacrifice.
she approached. she backed away. she approached a little bit. she backed off a way bunch.
I formulated a clever plan.
I said, "Don't move Sylvia", & made don't-move hand motions, which she seemed to understand perfectly.
I went in, drank a tall cool glass of water (I seem to whistle slightly less badly after a nice, cool glass of water) grabbed the can opener & a can of tuna & went back out, sort of whistling like Bob Dylan plays the harmonica.
little dark cat had melted into the shadows.
I rattled, I contorted my lips & blew. I announced that it was, indeed, tuna that she saw before her. (I also placated the Prince of Darkness, "Be Patient, my Dark Lord, be patient..." for the neighbors.)
I opened up the tuna can & drained it, extolling it's nourishing tastiness to the shadows.
little dark cat, alas, did not disengage from said shadows.
I went to the car, got my MagLite (the choice of professionals) & swept the area around the house, making a sort of a wet chirping noise.
no luck, & I was very late for work. I left the tuna on the front stoop & hoped she'd get some of it before it was frozen solid & went to work.
when I got home, there were a few dents in the tuna & it looked like the catfood had gone down a bit. I tried to whistle some more & did more rattling with the can opener, but nope.
with the weak light on the porch I couldn't be sure it was her, but it felt like her.
like I said, I don't want to get your hopes up.
anyway, I'll try & call later today, okay?
love & kisses,
--D