Run-on sentence alert!
You know those times where you’re walking down the street and you’ve got your eyes looking down and you realize that you’re about to run into someone, but still keeping your head down, you try to get out of their way while they’re doing the exact same thing, resulting in you and your unseen partner doing a lame back-and-forth sashay?
Then you do actually look up and start to make hand motions and grunting sounds indicating who should move on first while the other pleasantly waits to the side, ready to once again occupy the whole middle of the sidewalk cause, really, they’re never big enough for two across, especially in a roadwork wasteland like Saskatoon.
The other day, I had been motoring down the street with a bolder-than-usual enthusiasm, likely due to the changing of the season. I’m a fall kind of guy.
Though far less handsome than Lee Majors, for all you obscure 80s-television pun lovers.
So, as I was saying, I’m cruisin’ down the street when suddenly, I had one of those times.
But – it was with a cat.
I stepped backwards and barked a little yelp of surprise, not expecting my run-in to be with urban wildlife. He, in response, performed one of those awesome “surprised kitty cat” backwards double jumps. With its stiff, curved body in a wicked 45-degree angle, it threw me the hairiest of eyeballs I’ve ever had laid upon me.
Quickly appraising the situation, I stuck my arms high, in the international symbol for “back off”, and stepped gingerly to the side. I liked my shins just fine, thank you.
I acceded that the sidewalk was his to use, and I watched that sassy little bugger zoom past me and around the corner. Whatever crap that cat needed to get done was obviously way more important that whatever I had on my plate that night.
I love it when animals have things to get done. Actually, I’d like to think Homeward Bound was a documentary.
My kitty run-in pointed out something I’ve never really noticed.
There are zillions of stray cats in this town.
And here I sit in a warm, cozy pad with plenty of space to allow a little furry creature the joy of clawing my furniture in relative peace.
Lo, we hastened, my lady and I, to the Saskatoon SPCA.
(Though please slow down, you’re entering a hamlet. There’s clear signage. Especially when the cop points it out to you after he pulls you over for excessive “hastening”.)
A little tour of the facility took us into Cat Room No. 3, and into Smudge’s life.
Smudge is a cat. In a rather spacious, split-level cage, tucked into the bottom back corner of Cat Room No. 3, sat the little grey cat with sleepy eyes. These sleepy eyes being one of Smudge’s unique features because, you see, they’re always like that! Adorable and already well adapted to my lifestyle.
However, my lady and I are in a transitory phase. Not conducive to pet care whatsoever.
So, while we figure out if we really want something crapping in our house, daily, I also wonder how many of you guys have unknown pals out there.
Do yourself a favour: head to the animal shelter and check the gang out. One of them might just be waiting to catch your eye.
(Also cause stray kitty cats on the go don’t last too long during the winter.)