"Mmph!" Another note left by the cat. His name is Walter. At least that's what it says on his driver's license. (I peeked while he was busy in a Zoom meeting.) But "Mmph!" is all he ever says. To me, anyhow.
Blame it on the cat. That's what I always do. (But don't tell the cat. He might raise my rent again.)
Bush cat eyes me warily, from behind that tree. Once friend, but friend no more, since that dumpster fight we had over chicken scraps.
Getting near the end. When there's more hair in your ears and nose than on top, well, you know what's coming. Except the cat. He don't give a fuck.
Getting out of bed in the morning, it's what I need to do to get the cat to work on time. (Also requires fresh mouse with his scrambled eggs, or he won't move for nothin'.)
Here I am, an old guy. I've spent my entire life wondering about the meaning of truth, and still, after all these years, I find myself lying to the cat about most things most days. On the upside, he doesn't seem to give a fat rat's ass either way. Maybe we were meant for each other.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@gmail.com
Me? I'm just like that sometimes.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
