Meow Mix-up

I've been blessed with new neighbors. They are from Palm Springs and incredibly "spring-like." Each day, Momma Spring ventures out from her house with her count it five carat diamond ring, sapphire stranded necklace with bracelet and earrings to match-- and I wonder did anyone tell her she lives in the mountains? It's a new get-up every day, a new chance to display some new bling--- blinding bling-- the kind of bling that could give instantaneous Lasiks surgery to passersby (damn I need to make sure I align my eyes correctly next time I see her).

The thing about Momma Spring is that she is actually a really nice person. I love her to pieces. I feel for her because we are both in the same boat so to speak (though hers is name brand and mine is cutesy comfy). Her husband is an absent husband too and she is just about eight months pregnant and taking meds to stop preterm labor. She's also afraid to be alone. Since her window treatments weren't quite ready, she plastered her house in painter's paper so no one could see inside (like who the heck cares. I know I don't want to see her Starbucks commercial espresso machine-- I just want her to fix me a latte). But I can relate to the loneliness and the occasional need to check the locks and windows after an especially scary episode of "Medium" or "Criminal Minds" or on some occasions "American Idol" if Sanjia sings last.

Ok why did I start writing? Oh yes, it was because of her her cat.

The other day she hobbled over with some very important news.

"We've got an new cat," she said.
"Wow, that's nice," I said.
"The only problem is I don't know what kind it is," she said. "It sort of looks like a tiger."
"That would be a tabby," I said.
"Really? My husband had one that looked just like it once and we just had to put it to sleep and it was something else," she said. "Are you sure? Can you look it it? I think its a pedigree."
"Ok," I said.
"Oh and we don't know the sex," she said. "Are you good at that sort of thing?"
"Where did you get this cat?" I asked. "Didn't you ask when you got it?"
"Well it sort of walked onto our property and we trapped it," she said. "It looks just like my husband's old cat, and it's super sweet."
"You trapped the cat?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "You don't supposed it belongs to someone?"
"Is it nice?" I asked.
"Yes, it gets along well with the dogs and it doesn't bite the kids," she said.
"It is skinny?" I asked.
"No, it's soft and fluffy," she said.
"I think it might belong to somebody," I said.
"Well can you tell me if it's been fixed?" she said.

And so, I ventured into the house and the cat was hanging on the screen to her sliding glass door.

"It keeps trying to get out, but we're not going to let it out," she said. "It needs to know where its home is so it doesn't runaway."

I pried the cat from the screen. The cat was a healthy, clean fixed male tabby.

"It's boy that has been fixed," I said.

"Good now I won't have to get him fixed," she said.

"Are you sure it doesn't belong to someone?" I asked.

"Well people shouldn't let their cats out," she said. "I"m just going to keep it here for a couple of days and then I'll let it out and see where it goes."

I looked around the house, and her paper curtains were torn at cat face level. Her screen had multiple claw marks. The carpet my the doors had pull marks from where the cat had tried to dig its way out. It was obvious the cat was trying to make an escape.

"How has this cat been acting?" I asked.
"Well, it is great with the dogs, but it pooped in my bathtub and it went fishing in the aquarium and ate some of the fish," she said. "It must be feral."

"What if some child is waiting for her cat?" I asked.

"Well that child should keep her cat on her own property," she said.

And so, my neighbor is a cat napper--Can you believe it?