CATastrophe


No Good Deed…CATastrophe

That’s the name of my book on the theme that even the best intentions have a tendency to go bad. Here’s yet another example, and story to warm you hearts and give you chills at the same time. It all started with my family bugging me to death about getting another cat to replace our beloved “Wild Child” who died this spring. I held my ground; NO MORE CATS, not until things settle down a bit.” Then I open my Facebook and see a sweet little kitty, a Calico with white chest and four white paws, just like Wild. It was a stray and it wandered in to one of my FB friends (Jim), a former supervisor at Lake who was teaching at Wilmington University. He had to feed the cat outside largely because his housemate was allergic, but it seemed like a nice kitty dropped off and on its own. I messaged him, and he called. We talked and he filled me in; she (he assumed it was a young female) came when he called “Kitty” and allowed him to pet her. After some back and forth he agreed to meet me at his home after work Thursday at 5:00PM. He lived in Wilmington, north of Christiana Mall. Rush hour. Traffic. Torrential rain. Just the same I packed up the cat carrier and made plans to be there by 5:00, in time to pick up Miss Kitty and drive home, drop the cat, and make a 7:00 meeting at the library I needed to attend. Jim called and told me he got the kitty into his garage with some food, water and a dishpan with litter. She would be there waiting for me.

I left at 3:00, drove for an hour until I hit the rain, and the traffic around 4:00. Thank God for my smart phone guiding me through twists and turns and exits and highways and lights and finally Jim’s home, a nice place on a residential street. I grabbed the carrier and we discussed how to get the kitty into the little blue box. He said it let him pick her up, so…Plan A: Try to repeat the move, but kitty did not like heading into the blue box, she hissed, and jumped away. Plan B: “Got any gardening gloves?” I asked. Jim handed me two pair apologizing for their rugged condition, “No problem, we’re not going to a charity ball, we’re on a mission,” I told him. We each donned a pair of gloves. “I guess we should draw straws to see who picks her up. You had good luck the first time, if you can try to pick her up and stick her hind end in first, so she can’t see where she’s headed, that might work,” I told him. “If you get her and start her in, I’ll help get the rest of her in.” So he picked her up. Once her hind legs hit the box she started squirming, I grabbed her tail stuck it in first, then guided her behind, hind legs and next thing her head and front legs were in the hole. I closed the door, a white paw stuck out preventing it from locking. I poked the little leg inside and snapped the locks. Mission Accomplished. “We made a great team,” he said, and I agreed, here we were giving high fives with our garden gloves on. With that I scooped her up, we stuck her on the floor in the front seat and closed the door to my truck. We bid adieu and I set my cell phone for HOME. She cried all the way while I talked nice to her, describing our home, and my family and how we progressing down the highway. Two hours later I pulled into my driveway.

Stay tuned for the Rest of the Story tomorrow.

Thursday Night Frights


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