I didn't go out again yesterday, even though I was game to give it another try, but Mom was still jittery from the nasty "almost lost in a hole" incident. We got a good night's sleep, after Mom took a Valium. At 5:30 a.m. this morning, the garbage behemoths rounded the corner of Jordan Street and just about flipped off my tight pink collar. I shivered under the bed. This guttural jolt amped my nerves, and thus the day began.
Mom had some water with her vitamins .. note to Mom: don't forget the hair vitamins today. I know you're bored with taking the fallen hair out of the tiny drain in that wacky tub. Then came her chai, after waiting a bit too long for the pan to heat on that flimsy stovetop. Stage three of the collar controversy began, especially after Mom cut off the harness with scissors, as I growled and held back my attack instincts because my Mama is the best, just a little misguided right now. So, this morning, Mom decided to take me out on the leash while she fetched her New York Times. Seeing the paper on the front stoop was nostalgic and familiar for her. I shivered again, in the lovely cool Santa Cruz ocean air, still tense from the garbage trucks. I could hear their growl in the distance.
I couldn't walk down the steps ... Those growls were still scaring me, and then the head popped ... there "it" was: Killer Cat is how the neighbors refer to this Manx creature. He found me. I ran in the house, freaked ... then, after a few moments of shivering, I perched myself at the front studio window ... to be continued
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