KILLER KITTY

I went out the other morning, food in hand, to give my Killer Kitty breakfast.  He is always there, meowing about how he's starving to death and why I am late and he's been waiting for hours. 

Well, that morning he was no where to be seen.  I called and called and my dog helped me look.  But, no Killer.  I kept going back and checking every few minutes for that gentleman.  Finally, I saw his white paw, up under the car.  It was strange that he didn't run right out to eat, same as usual.  I thought maybe he'd been in another fight and had something sore.

'Bout that time, a half grown RAT ran out from under the car, with Killer in hot pursuit and Pansy scrambling for the door.

You didn't think I could move that fast that early in the morning.  You didn't think I could get turned around and up those steps that fast!  Well, honey, it was either that or make a new door in the side of the house.

There stood that Kitty, meowing at me with that RAT hanging out of his mouth.  I told him he was entirely on his own.  He'd get no breakfast from me under the present set of circumstances.  He proceeded to play with that RAT, turning him loose and swatting him around.  Such fun!!

I checked again later and, there he was, that thing still in his mouth, meowing, "Look what I caught."  And I told him he had caught the thing; he could deal with it.

After I went to the door several times, food still in hand, he must have gotten the idea.  The RAT disappeared, not to be seen by me again.  I don't care if he ate him or gave him to the dog, just so he was not in my line of vision anymore.

Next morning, I stopped at the door and told Killer I'd come out and feed him if there was no RAT hanging out of his mouth.  And  - there wasn't.

I've probably set his rat hunting back ten years.  But, he's got to understand that some delicacies must be eaten right where you catch 'em!

If he'd brought back a rattlesnake or a grizzly bear, I might have liked to see that.   But I know what a RAT looks like!

SNAKE STORY!

At the risk of life and limb, I'm gonna tell you a story about a friend of mine.  I absolutely won't tell her real name.  I know there would be murder and mayhem if I even hinted at who she is.  So, we'll call her Jane.

To put it mildly, this friend does not like snakes of any size, shape, color or ancestry.

One day some little ole bitty snake made the mistake of crawling on her property.  He was probably just passin' through on his way to visit his mother!

Did I tell you this lady owns a shotgun?  (I see you are way ahead of me.)  Yep, that lady ran, got her shotgun, and shot that little ole bitty snake SEVEN times.

Jane then went and called her husband at work, to inform him, no doubt, that she had saved the homestead from that vicious creature.  He told her to hang the snake on the fence and he'd see what kind it was when he got home.

After he arrived home later he went out for "the viewing".   Very shortly thereafter, he came back in the house and asked "Which piece should I look at to tell what kind it is?"  Jane had scattered snake all over the yard.  SEVEN shots from a shotgun, remember?  There was no piece big enough to identify.  I don't know how she found enough to hang on the fence!

If snakes know what's good for them, they'll give her place a wide berth.   Her shotgun is always ready.

My young son, Patrick, was driving my car the other day in Plano and got hit in a parking lot.   Bonged it up good and it had to go to the car hospital.

I have rental insurance on my auto policy, so I called the rent-a-car place.  They told me for my $20 per day insurance I could have a subcompact car.  My only question was "Does it have an air conditioner?"  and they said yes.  With the temperatures 98 degrees in the shade, that is an essential consideration.  They even delivered my little purple mini-car.  Suzie calls 'em rubber-band cars when she has rented one on a flying trip home.

That little bitty thing drives very well, but there just isn't enough of it.  If I were run over by an 18-wheeler, I would look like Bugs Bunny, after the fact, flat as the proverbial pancake.

I was wheeling down 78 on Sunday morning, on my way to church.  I had that little thing wound up to 65 MPH without even having to peddle.  Some feller pulled up to a stop sign coming off a side road.  He slowed down, I was watching him and assumed he would stop.  Well, that shows what assuming will get you.  I don't know if he didn't look or couldn't see something that little and purple.  He came out onto that highway, right in front of me.

Well, it is amazing how many thoughts can go through your mind in that split second, when you are about to demolish the car in front of you.

As soon as I really believed that dude was just going to pull on out, I slammed on every brake I could find.  I couldn't remember where the horn was.  And I was thinking "Oh, I'm going to wreck this rent car and my car is already in the hospital getting straightened out.  And I'm not going to be able to stop before I hit him?"  And everything in the front seat and everything in the back seat was flying into the floor board.  And that silly feller in that pickup was still kinda' meandering along, like he was the only person on the whole road.  I finally found the horn, for all the good it did.  If he even looked in his rearview mirror, he probably just wondered why that little purple car was honking at him.  I was so mad.  I wished I was driving a bulldozer.  Giving me heart failure like that.  I shook for thirty minutes.

That car rental feller went all over the car, with me trailing him, to find any dents and scratches already on it.  If I had torn it all to pieces, I hate to think what he would have done.  It only had 385 miles on it when it was delivered into my hands.

We'll just have no further comments about women drivers, thank you very much.   That was a man that pulled out in front of me--and a woman that did not run over him.  So there!

I Figured It Out, Sis!

On a recent Sunday morning, my niece and nephew, Joshua and Sarah Goble, were driving home with me from Church services.  They attend services at the Beech Fork Church of Christ in Davella, Kentucky.  They were sitting in the back seat and discussing the communion service.  Joshua is seven years old and Sarah is twelve years old.

During their conversation, Joshua told his sister, "I know why they only have the grape juice and bread on Sunday morning and not on Sunday night and Wednesday night."  "Why?", asked my niece.   My nephew replied, "Because it is for the people that don't eat breakfast!"