I grew up writing about the paranormal, and I blame too many Saturday mornings watching ‘Scooby Doo.’
Kelley Armstrong
It is Sunday morning and there was zero cat food. I did all the things I need to do to get Gracie down the highway and headed to town. Armed with handfuls of end of the month money, you know all that change you get back from the stores all month. I have enough I hoped to get a big bag of cat food.
When I got to town a half-hour later and searched out the bag I needed, it was more than I had. I quickly asked God for a little guidance, the cheapo cat food was on sale, if I bought that I could grab a bacon & egger and some coffee for the trip home.
I was worried my cats are fussy they don’t like the cheap stuff. They usually will only eat Whiskas. I told them the fish in there that was caught by slaves forced to work on boats in Thailand and that they cheated by doing ship to ship transfers out on the ocean to fool the authorities, but they didn’t care that was what they liked.
I took a chance, when I got home they all were so hungry they ate it. The new feral kitten had got out and was mixing with the other cats as if she had been there all along. There were a few hissy fits but mostly purring going on. It looked like everything was going to work out. I may even get some time to game today. It was so warm out I wouldn’t need wood for the fire. So no chainsawing or chopping today. It was going to be a day off. I needed one. I spent the night with intense throat pain again. I am a little concerned about that.
The newly captured feral kitten.Scrappy Doo
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