The tiny cat! I heard an earth-shatteringly loud meow coming from the garage. I opened the door. And the prodigal cat had returned. She ate like… well, like a cat who hadn’t eaten in three days.
The Professor and I were just talking the other day about how clear it was that the tiny cat had retired from the CIA, but now I’m not so sure.
In other news, I hear they’ve gotten the oil leak in the Gulf stopped up. I’m not saying there’s a correlation, I’m just saying, America, the next time you need to fly our cat to some secret destination to save the world, please make sure she’s fed.
In other, more serious news, we have a mouse in the house. We keep finding its poop in the most unfortunate places. Three cats and a mouse. Hopefully, now that the tiny cat’s home, she’ll take care of this nonsense.
(In the length of time it’s taken me to write this post–during which I’ve also had a couple of discussions with the Butcher–the tiny cat has eaten a can of wet cat food and I can hear her in there chomping down on the dry. Never leave us again, tiny cat! Or leave a note!)