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This is a story I don’t tell on stage, I usually tell this to friends that have met this particular Cat.

Years ago, I had more time on my hands than now days. One of my best friends and I used to go out to coffee every Friday, since we both had that day off for one reason or another. I would arrive around 10:00 am and we’d get some lunch at some place that had good coffee. Every morning as I would come over to pick him up he would open the door and as I came in he would say, “I’m gunna go finish getting ready." and "don’t look at the Cat.” I would wait in the living room, and for a couple of years I thought nothing of it since he said it in such a casual manner, and I mostly ignored the Cat. The Cat in question had been rescued off the street when it had been struck by a Car. My friends wife had nursed it back to health after many months, but the Cat’s behavior was strange since it was left a little cross eyed. We would all laugh at the story they told about the cat being taught to go through small panel door to the garage where the litter box was, it soon thought that it could walk through walls and would butt it’s head against the wall trying to move through the wall as it had with the panel.

One Friday I came over to pick my friend up for lunch and a bit of coffee, I came in the living room as usual, and as usual he said, “don’t look at the Cat.” Off he went in the back to finish brushing his teeth. I should say at this point the living room was connected to the kitchen by a swinging door the back door of the kitchen to a short hall and back you could walk into the living room. After my friend had disappeared I walked into the kitchen and there was the little cross eyed Cat glaring at me, as I looked down I just burst out laughing it was so comical. The Cat took offense as if it was a sign of aggression and started coming at me like a rabid Wild Cat, hissing, spiting, yowling. Terribly frightened I backed out through the swinging kitchen door only to realize the thing had gone around the back through the hall out into the living room. I quickly stepped back through the swinging door into the kitchen again. I prayed that the frothing, spitting creature could not understand or work the door. It whirled back around and came in the back door of the kitchen, and we did this little dance back and forth, as I would call out several times to my friend, “are you ready yet,” or sometimes, “help”! Finally the Cat faked me out and doubled back when it lunged at me glomming on to my pant leg, like a miniature Lion of the undead variety biting the neck of a small Gazelle. I was amazed that it didn’t hurt more than it did, since the attack was so ferocious. After much urgent pleading my friend made ready to go, he yelled, “Cat!!!!” and it slinked into a back room to sulk, and out the door we went. As he locked the door he said kindly, “I told you….don’t look at the Cat!

David Sharp

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