Hoardered Cats, Cynical Dogs

Flynn and I were just coming home from our walk when I noticed three

 pre-teens trailing along behind us. 

They were huddled together talking intently. 

I didn't think too much about it.

We went into the house and I closed the door behind us.

I hadn't even taken my coat off when the doorbell rang.

The three kids I'd noticed earier were now standing on the doorstep.

"Hi girls," I said while Flynn looked on, "what can I do for you?"

"We're trying to buy a hoardered cat," said the one whose glasses rested on a band aid that covered most of her nose, "and we were wondering if you would like to donate some money."

"A hoardered cat?"  I asked.  

"You know," said the tallest one with the long straight hair, "a cat that is owned by a hoarderer."

"A  hoarder! " I said when the light dawned.

"Er,"  I added quickly.  They hadn't come to my door for a grammar lesson.

"Yeah,"  the shortest girl with the sandy hair nodded grimly, "and we need to save that cat."

"I have six cats!"  the tall girl blurted.

"Uh oh," I thought. "The poor cat is going to go from one 'hoarderer's' frying pan into another 'hoarderer's' fire."

"But two of them are dead," she quickly amended when she noticed my worried look. 

"Eek," I thought.

"I mean I've owned six cats in my whole life,"  she backtracked frantically.

Her companions frowned  angrily. 

They were on a life and death mission and this was no time for a screw up.

But I didn't spend thousands of hours of my teaching career immersed in the emotional turmoil of the 11 year old mind for nothing.

I knew what I had to do. 

"Welllll ..."  I looked down and put my finger against my lips thoughtfully.

They stopped sending eye daggers at each other and turned to look at me hopefully.  

"Let me get my purse," I said.

Flynn made a snorting noise and went to curl up on the couch.

I don't know what the going rate is for 'hoardered' cats these days but I gave them $5.00.

I was still smiling and waving good-bye when Flynn yawned and opened one eye to look at me.

I could see that she was thinking, "A fool and her money are soon parted."

Jeesh.

Dogs use far too many clichés.

TheTale of Roland the Cougar

Have you ever wondered what would have happened if you'd done things differently?

I'm not talking about big events like dropping out of high school and taking up a life of crime instead of becoming the lawyer your mom always wanted you to be, I'm talking about little things.

For example, today I decided to take Flynn the dog for a walk in the North Pelham Ball Park but for some reason about half way there I changed my mind. 

I pulled into a driveway , turned around and headed for the Roland Road entrance to Short Hill Provincial Park.

As soon as Flynn got out of the car she went into doggie high alert.

Mindful of our spooky experience in the park a few months ago when I thought we saw Niagara's mysterious and carnivorous big cat, I froze too.

And I must tell you that my blood turned to ice when we heard its cry.

Then I thought about what I had just heard.

"Jeesh," I said to Flynn the dog,  "I expected cougars to sound a bit more ferocious."

Nevertheless, we remained watchful and, indeed, It wasn't long till the beast showed itself.

Flynn rushed in for the kill and was rewarded with a loud purr and face rub.

The little 'cougar' was an unneutered male about 12 months old. 

He was wet, hungry and lonely.

He followed us for quite a way crying the whole time.

Eventually we turned back because I was afraid his meowing would bring a fox or coyote and that would be the end of him.

Or the cougar and that would be the end of us.

Flynn and I rushed home.

I knew I couldn't keep him, having four cats already so I phoned the Humane Society and told them I was going to go back and try to find him.

It wasn't very hard to locate the little fella. 

He was sitting in the rain in the parking lot crying. 

I set down some food and the cat carrier.

The rest of the story is the hard part.

I had to leave 'Roland' the pretend cougar at the Welland Humane Society. 

If you would like to adopt him, the Welland Humane Society is off Prince Charles Drive. It is on the left as you head south to Port Colbourne. Watch for the yellow sign.

You'll know you are close when you see all of the wonderful volunteers out walking the homeless dogs.

Please.

I'd like to think there was a reason I turned around and went to Short Hills today.