Feeling Like Ace Ventura

Or Doctor Doolittle.

On my way home, I peeped a kitty cat looking at me from its deck. I went to snap kitty’s photo and I swear, the camera must be a magnet. I wanted to catch a photo of kitty looking through the wood slats at me but instead it climbs down, sprints over the lawn and squeezes itself through the white picket fence to greet me.

This kitty was adorable and a complete slut.

Uber-affectionate, it rubbed itself against my legs wanting to be petted. Kitty even went so far as stood on her hindlegs, reaching up just past my knees and gently digging in her nails on my jeans to get me to squat down to her level. All the more easier for her to scooch herself onto my lap and tuck herself purring away on the front of my coat.

After what seemed like 20 minutes playing with her on the middle of the sidewalk, I lifted her over the white picket fence and put her back in the yard. Started walking away, but she was not having none of that, it seems.

Halfway down the hill, I looked back. Big mistake. When I did that, that was her signal to come running down to catch up to me.

Well, I couldn’t let her come halfway down the block and away from her house. My heart couldn’t bear it if something happened to her away from her home. So I carried her back to her house, played with her a few more minutes, put her back over in her yard and walked home again.

Shampoo. Rinse. Repeat.

This happened 2 more times before I returned her to her yard and then walked all the way down the hill, turned the corner and all the while not turning back, hoping she would not follow.

Phew, after 3 times, it was successful. This could’ve gone on into the evening.