Lucky the Cat
I’m not a runner.
Unless someone is chasing me with a knife.
...It happens more often than you think. (Some people just don’t have a sense of humor.)
So when it comes to exercising, I’m more of a Let’s Go For A Walk To The Nearest Donut Shop kinda girl.
Sure, it’s counterproductive. But my world is a matter of checks and balances.
Until I noticed my clothes had suddenly shrunk because I’d had a Snickers bar for breakfast....
12 times last month.
Uh, there’s really no way to balance that out, is there?
And since the dog looks like she’s been on a steady diet of steak and chicken for half her life (she has), I decided it was time for us two girls to take back the world and do a little exercising.
Just not running.
Unless there’s a guy. With a knife.
It was a beautiful day. The shine was shining, the temperature was perfect, and there we were, me and my girl tackling the world.
Working the muscles.
Feeling the burn.
At least for about 30 yards.
That’s when I heard the most mournful sound in the world - a pitiful, sighing, “MEOW.”
I turned around to see our cat halfway up the street, apparently having opted to go for a walk too.
“Hey, you,” I shooed her. “Cats don’t go for walks!”
Unless they’re saber-toothed tigers looking for lunch. And nothing about the small 18-month-old kitty screamed “PREDATOR!” so no way was she allowed to follow us for a walk.
For the record, she wasn’t even allowed out of the yard. And there’s a very good chance a large squirrel would have eaten her for lunch.
So I ordered her little kitty butt back home, tugged on the dog’s leash and turned back around to head up the street once again.
I took two steps and again heard, “MEOW.”
I turned around to see that our cat had completely ignored my earlier directive to go back home.
What the hell? I had pointed and shouted and waved my hands and everything! And she just dissed me like that? Seriously?
Who’s in charge here? Who’s walking upright, on two legs? Who’s the evolved one here?!
Me, that’s who!
I walked toward her, dragging the dog behind me. Who, at this point, has no clue which way we’re going or why we keep walking in circles.
I got thisclose to the cat, reached down to pick her up and - scat - off she went. Across the street and up a tree in the neighbor’s yard.
Oh, for the love of God.
I marched over - dog in tow - and shouted, “Get down from there!”
But, no. For some reason the cat wouldn’t listen to me.
So I did what any reasonable person would do.
“Stay!” I hollered at her.
It works for the dog. Might as well see if the feline version works.
For the record?
“Stay” doesn’t work on a cat.
Two more steps and “MEOW!” from right behind my heels.
Gawddammit! You have got to be kidding me.
This right here is why people don’t exercise.
It’s not because we’re lazy.
It’s because the universe is clearly against us.
I leaned down and scooped her kitty butt up before she had a chance to make a break for it and walked the three houses back home.
She wiggled. She squirmed. She howled.
“I thought you wanted to go for a walk,” I growled at her. “So this is us. Going for a walk.”
Yes, please, let’s stop here. Again. For the eighth time in just this one block alone. To smell a patch of grass where one dog - or 20 - peed once upon a time.
For the record, walking a dog sucks.
Then out of the blue I hear, “Beautiful dog you got there.”
I looked up to see that a car had pulled up alongside us, the driver leaning over to get a closer view of my dog.
I smiled like a cat with the canary, waved the leash in his direction and quipped, “Thanks! She’s all yours!”
The smile immediately slid off his face, he straightened up, hit the gas and sped down the street; apparently feeling the need to get as far away as possible from the crazy lady giving away free dogs.
I’ve got cats too.