My dad told me about a little girl in his neighborhood who has gotten a reputation. She’s about ten and awkward, and you know how much I like awkward kids.
Anyway, she has been known to cruise the neighborhood surveying the area for “lost” cats. She then “rescues” them, which also includes asking everyone if they know whose cat it is and taking it home.
I really hope that this wasn’t me when I was growing up and that my dad is just trying to remind me of my past in a gentle indirect way. Firstly, because I’d like to think I’d remember being that cool, and secondly, because I never got to keep any of those cats…oh, except one. I suppose I did find a cat that repeatedly came to the park my friend Sarah worked at for a pre-school camp. In fairness, the cat came over and over and was so hungry I could tell that she needed a home.
So, this story really isn’t about me, since I was in high school, not fifth grade. And, I really knew she was homeless…I think. Also, my mom really needed a new cat so it was totally valid.
Ok, so I just realized that my attempt to make fun of a crazy little girl became yet another “joke’s on me.” Oh, fiddlesticks!