Sunday, May 26, 2024 May 26, 2024
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Turns out, she did. She did taw a puddycat. A gray and black tabby fella was meowing its little head off in the middle of the street last night around 8 in the M Street area. His hind legs were bloody and broken, but the poor thing was still alive. My wife, being a kind, conscientious soul, wanted to help. She called me and asked, “What do I do?” I told her to call 3-1-1. She did and told them the cat’s location along with her unprofessional diagnosis (i.e., “its legs are broken and it’s bleeding”). They asked my wife if she’d be there in the next 24 hours and if she’d stay with the cat. No, and no–family circumstances prevented it.

Cut to 3:01 a.m. this morning, when a city worker, just starting his shift, called my wife’s cellular phone, which happened to be beside our bed–like, close enough to wake us up. He called to ask if the cat was still there. “I don’t know,” she said. Something tells me it was … but it wasn’t, if you know what I mean.