What can I tell you? It was a slow day.
Anyway, my mind got to running through the lyrics of
the song, in search of clues or evidence which pointed in either direction.
You can get yourself clean.
You can have a good meal.
You can do whatever you feel…
I must have been looking out into the front hall while
I was running the lines in my head. The cat was out there, in her furry
basket, performing one of her focused paw-on-face ablutions. At her side was
her food and water. The door was open slightly in case she fancied a
venture-out.
That’s when it struck me. We are the YMCA for the cat.
She can come in whenever she wants, she can get herself clean, have a good meal
and, generally, do whatever she feels.
Folks, we have become the Young Moggy’s Charitable Association.
For one cat, at least.
Which is fine.
I mean… no cat does it all by herself…
(For Puddy, who became our friend three years ago
this week)
1 comment:
I usually have a lot to say when it comes to cats but really the following says it all, Ken: "Preaching to the choir, son. Preaching to the choir."
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