Baby Kitties and Pricker Bushes

While driving home in a panic yesterday, I saw two baby kitties on the side of the road. I was in a hurry because I had to get home and fax a New York hotel a credit card authorization form for a friend at work. Once that was completed (and trust me she should feel really special that I put that over the kitties), I went back to try and get them. There are three; two black and one gray, and they are as big as my hand. I was so close to getting them it was just heartbreaking. My husband took me back up there when the rain slacked a bit, but no luck. So of course, they’re all I can think about.

I’m telling y’all right now, if I ran this country, anyone who hurt kids, animals, or old people would be killed on the spot. If two grown-ass men are fighting and someone gets stabbed or shot, whatever. Shit happens. Let’s have a trial and all that. The person guilty of that crime isn’t necessarily a bad person, they just got in a bad spot. ANYONE who hurts a child, animals, or old people CANNOT be rehabilitated. PERIOD. They prey on weak victims because they are sick in the head and need to dominate something. I would be like, ‘You did what? Booocahoowhhh!’ (That was me kicking them in the head and then shooting them.)
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After two afternoons of crawling around in the pricker bushes, Cameron getting attacked by fire ants, and Myron ripping his tie, I have come to the conclusion that the baby kitty doesn’t like me. This is a very hard fact for me to accept because ALL CATS LIKE ME. I am sad.

Well TRUE NORTH comes out on Saturday. At least I’ve got that going for me. Below are pics of the kitties that still love me.

Gary the Cat


Dilly


Fenway