A Twist on the Holiday

Did you know that this past Friday was "Take Your Pet to Work Day?" Somebody did, and they observed. The sad part, they didn't take it back home.

I left the parking lot at work on Friday about 10 minutes after 5 o'clock (yes, that's right-after five on Friday!) to head home for the weekend. About two miles outside of town I turned around in a neighborhood when I remembered that I needed something from the grocery store. In the middle of my turnaround, I hear a faint "meow" and immediately assume I've splattered somebody's cat. I quickly look in the rear-view mirror for what I thought I'd hit, but nothing was there. [Insert sigh of relief here.]

A minute or two later, pulling into a parking spot at the grocery store, I hear the faint cry again, "meow." Whoa! Maybe it's my tires on the asphalt.

As I'm walking away from the car toward the store, I hear it again, "meow."

Has somebody put something in my purse to drive me crazy? I had my suspicions.

In and out of the store in a flash, lettuce in hand, I casually stroll around my car once more for the inconspicuous inspection. Nothing. I even opened the back hatch to make sure somebody hadn't played a trick on me--nothing.

Oh well, it's been a long day, what am I thinking anyway?

I get a few miles down the road, it starts again. At this point, I begin leaning my head back between the driver and passenger seats to try to pinpoint this nuisance. All I could determine was that it was "in the back." A general location that could make me crazy if I thought about it more.

The radio is off at this point. Air is on a level just high enough to keep me from having a heat stroke and low enough that I can hear any ambient noises.

As it continues, and I travel at speeds varying from 35 to 85 mph, I decide to stop at the Amoco, where there's always at least one old guy standing around, and somebody would be willing to help me look under my car.

I pull up to the station and walk in to find only one man standing in the corner--he's not a familiar face, and he may be dressed too well to want to sit on the ground to look under my car. I ask anyway.

As we walk to the car, I explain that it may sound absurd to him, but that I was certain there was a cat under my car. He says we'll look.

So we look. And we listen. Nothing.

"You sure it ain't ya radio?" he asks.

"Radio's off. It's a cat."

"You look like you got pretty good sense, but all this talk I'm thinkin' you a little frayed," he suggests.

"No, sir. The radio's off, the air's off, window's up, and there's a cat on thi--

I hear it again and shift my focus to the car.

He looks to the sky.

"See, that ain't nothin' but a hawk you hearin' now."

"Was that a hawk I've been hearing since I left Livingston?"

"Miss, I think you crazy."

I thanked him for his time and efforts, and promised to take a picture of the cat when I got it out. I left the station.

Driving along, I hear the cat again, "meow."

At this point, I'm more than a little aggravated. I turned onto a couple of roads that I knew would be bumpy. If speed hadn't released this clingy feline, maybe a bumpy gravel road would make a nice new home for it.

To save you another couple minutes of reading this intriguing saga, I'll skip to the part where I get home and still hear it. Frustrated, I lie down behind my car and look upward. Suddenly, louder than ever, like a panther lurking in the grass at dusk, "Meerrrrooooooorrrrroooooowwwwwwww."

That's it! Cat under the car. Rode 35 miles. Must be ferocious!

I bravely stuck my arm over everything I could see from the ground up and snapped a few pictures, hoping to catch a glance of this beast. No fur. Not claws. No cat.

I begin to make my way around the side of the vehicle, and Alas! a paw!

About this time, my neighbor, Betty, sees me on the ground and drives over on her all terrain vehicle, stocked with large flashlights and more. I explain the situation, and she offers a hand. After about ten minutes of prying, guess what came out?

A dang cat.

But the story doesn't end there. However, I can finish it in one long sentence:

Betty held the cat while I went to borrow a pet taxi, which the cat would pry its way out of rather quickly, just before it began running like a rabid beast around my yard while lightning struck round about us, causing us to give up on the cat chase with well- or not-so-well wishes for this cat.

Actually, I need a few more sentences. You should know that this cat has been the bane of my existence since Friday at 5:15 p.m., having done all of the above, scratched me, awakened me at approximately 2 a.m. every morning thereafter, and making its permanent hiding place the wheel well that sheltered it across 35 miles of Alabama Highway 28. All I've got to say is, he better play it safe because I'm pretty sure he's used seven or eight of his lives on that quick trip, and he's getting really close to expiring yet another.