So about a week ago I get a text message from my lovely roomie Emily that we were harboring a cat in the laundry room. I was at work and clearly a message like this got me excited. What kind of cat? What color? Wild? Tame? Could he/she please live with us forever and join our animal kingdom of crazy?
Fast forward four hours--I'm at home--there it is! A cat! In our house!
le kitty chat!
Bad News: Emily hates cats.
Good News: she's too nice to dump it back outside where it came from, crawling up to the door with a smile on its face knowing it had picked the perfect townhouse of suckers to live cozily with pre-epic snow blizzard 2010.
So anyway, now we have this cat who doesn't belong to us but to someone else around here because she came sporting a yellow nylon collar with a bell that she obvi didn't craft herself. Classy, yes. Crafty/opposable thumbs, no.
Sigh.
So, if anyone recognizes said cat, fess up. Although she's currently being pumped full of overpriced Science Diet kitty chow + wet food + hand-picked grass because she kept trying to eat my plants/looked like she wanted to barf, she needs to go to her legitimate home. Stat.
Lucy--the original queen of the house--would appreciate it.
Like mother, like daughter, Lucy hates cats, too.
Double sigh.
