You may recall that there’s a black neighborhood cat that I’ve dubbed “Street Widda.” Street, because it lives on the street, naturally. And Widda because it’s black, and I name all black cats some variation of Widda after my cat that died last year. Now, it’s not due to any sort of cat memorial for Widda – we’ve been calling all black cats “Widda” even with the Widda Original still around. Because frankly, the name “Widda” is just so stupid that it becomes catchy. You’ll see. Next time you see a black cat you’ll think, “WIDDA!”
So back to Street Widda. Street, for short. Street lives next door, hangs out at the little brick bungalow where they keep the garage open about a foot and have a box with blankies and a feeder full of food and water for him. He had a friend, we named him Big Tom because he was a giant-sizer who looked like he must be a boy tomcat. He lived at Street’s place, too. An old lady took care of ’em.
Then, sometime ago, the old lady got sick and had to move in with her daughter. Her daughter has been over for months now cleaning out the junk in the house, and unfortunately some of that junk that’s getting cleaned out is Street. Street is too wild to take to the new digs. Big Tom is making the cut to move to the new place, but poor Ole‘ Street didn’t.
I’ll give you one guess as to who’s inheriting Street.
Kenny’s been a good stray-cat dad so far. He tends to him every day, making sure he has food and water. The neighbors are still keeping the garage open until they sell the house (the current shitty housing market could be doing huge favors for Streetie) and we just tend to his needs over there. But the plan is to eventually get him to transition to our house. We haven’t figured out where we’re going to house him – we have too much expensive shit packed into our garage to just leave it open a foot all the live-long day (and night), and plus we have a family of squirrels who’ve made it their home (which is a whole ‘nother small critter story). So we’ve looked into the cost of outdoor houses, and have worked it up with Timmy (who lives downstairs) that we’d get Street all set up on his back porch. But we still have some time, and I’m not sure that’s the ideal plan. Although we have to come up with something, and do it this summer.
And, oh, by the way, while he’s an outdoor wild cat, he’s been living pretty high on the hog – he’s been fed a diet of Fancy Feast twice a day. My beloved indoor house pets don’t get Fancy Feast on a daily basis – they get the cheap stuff. Poor Street, he doesn’t know quite yet just exactly how his world is going to change. As for now, he just runs from us like the wind when he senses Stranger Danger in the vicinity. Ingrate.
p.s. – this was a much more entertaining story in my mind, I just don’t seem to have much of a fun creative spin in me. Too many hours at the Card Mines this week. Sucked all my Creativity dry. I’m too tired to even proof read this for stupidity, so if it’s there, just go with it. I have to mop the kitchen floor, we live like pigs. And pack. We’re going out of town in the morning, for my Grandmother’s official funeral. So there.