November 28, 2007: Slice of life
Among the toothless, barefoot weirdos living a brutal existence next door to us, there are probably eight cats. Most of them, accustomed to having drunkards extinguish cigarettes in their ears, scurry away when you pull into the driveway.
Two don't. A brown and black brindle-coated one and a grey and white patched one like to come up to my open car door and jump into my lap. I'll sit there and pet them in the car for ten minutes before going inside.
I'll confess I wouldn't mind rescuing them for luxurious indoor lives.
