Monday, March 20, 2006

Feline brothel

Let me start by, I am not a cat person--sorry to my readers who are. There is just something about cats that I do not get. Anyways, I digress. Here is my story:

A few nights ago, Ian could her some funky meowing on the baby monitor. Turns out there were 4 neighbourhood cats frolicking on our front steps. See, we have this nasty carpet stuff on our front steps--the joys of an older home we did not design, and the cats must love it. So, anyway, Ian shooes them off and off to sleep we go.

Next night, we do not hear anything. Cool. No cats hanging around, right? NOT.

I go open the front door to bring some stuff out to my car in the morning and notice some hair on the front steps. I ask Ian if he has brushed Kirby--'cause he is a hairy dude. Nope. We take a closer look--it is CLUMPS of cat hair, and I mean A LOT of hair. Gross. Since this is 'cat in heat' time, we figure that the neighbourhood cats have all decided that my front steps are worthy of some fornication.

Yep, I said it--Fornication...nasty feline fornication on my front steps. Gross. Turns out, I have my own Feline Brothel.

Nick-out
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