Fall has definitely fallen. Slugs and snails are everywhere, and the spiders like to come inside where it’s warm. Most leaves have dropped off the trees and lie on the ground, frequently gobbling up my purple-and-white ball and making me work harder to find it. I’m getting pretty good at that, however; no lost balls for quite a while.
The weather has been cold and damp, and on many nights the fog rolls in and sometimes doesn’t burn off until late afternoon. I hear foghorns all the time. Mostly I just roll my eyes, but it’s a bugger when I’m circling, almost ready to poop after finding the perfect spot, and a damned horn blast disrupts my sense of peace (and equilibrium). That’s downright aggravating.
Mike and Heather must have visited his mom in Florida when they went away last week, because when they got back I noticed a big influx of Tampa Bay Times poop bags. While they were gone I mostly hung out with Lynn and snuggled. One day Lynn walked me next door to introduce me to a new black cat, as if I really didn’t know that it’s a fake, just part of our neighbor’s Halloween decorations. I played along with Lynn, pretending to do a double-take when I saw it and even feigning a lunge at it, just to give Lynn something she could report to Mike and Heather. Lynn really eats up that kind of stuff.
Frankly, I’ve got too many real cats to worry about already. As I stroll up and down the block at least a couple of times a day, I have been watching and counting, and I now count eight cats on our block. Eight! Thankfully about half of them never venture outside, where I can smell them and follow their trails. These pussies lurk behind their windows, afraid to come out and face me, badass war machine that I am. Until they escape from their perches, I will be forced to stay hot on the trails of Ted and Fred, the black cats who live two doors down. Ted, especially, likes to hang around our bird baths despite my best efforts to keep him away. One day, I will get that Ted, or at least throw a good scare into him. I guarantee it.