Monday, October 20, 2008


I went out this morning to buy a new flapper for my toilet and on the drive back I got stuck behind some cars that were taking an awfully long time to make a simple right-hand turn. It was only after I went a few feet past the intersection that I realized the reason they were moving so slowly is that there was kitten -- a tiny tiny kitten, barely visible against the gray roadtop -- just sort of sitting in the middle of the street, seemingly not sure itself how it got there.

I jumped out of the car so fast that I neglected to first make sure it wasn't moving. Somehow I managed to jump back in, apply the brake, and run back out in time to scoop up the kitten, which now had impatient motorists (who will forever burn in hell jabbed by trident-wielding cats) whizzing past her on both sides. Two or three more seconds and I would have needed a spatula to pick her up.

So, during the rest of the drive home I debated what to call it. "Toilet" was an immediate choice. "Lexington", after the name of the avenue where I found her, was a close second, although I have a problem with pet names of more than two syllables. Eventually I decided on "Squish", which is the last sound she would have made if things had turned out differently.

The Safest Place on Planet Earth

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