May 14, 2010

The curtains exhale and inhale, the wind pushing them in an effort to seduce the insiders out. I prefer to stay put for now, watching cars whiz passed and listen to bird speak. They've got it going on, conversing about last nights storm or the cat that got away. That damn cat roaming my garden leaving his scent for me to wish I owned a gun whenever I open windows. Not that I hate cats, because I don't. I just despise the smell they leave behind, as if it's some sort of alluring device to get me out of the house. That works. I go out and hunt down the damned cat, and then I spray the bushes with a neutralizer. Works, but doesn't keep him away. A bee-bee gun would, I think. Just a little sting in the tail to get my point across, or perhaps a Rottweiler would do the trick. One that can hide well inside the bushes.