Went and bought some hydrangeas for the front yard today- I’ve just become tired of the histrionics of my fainting pansies. I love the flowers, and they really are one of my favorites, but don’t water them for eight hours and they all pass out and look like Tunch sat on them or something. Next year, the pansies are just going in the flower boxes until they start their crap in the 90 degree weather, and I will just replace them. That’s right. There will be pansy genocide next year.
Speaking of Tunch, I opened the gate to the fence to take out the trash, and fat boy bolted. I spent an hour looking for him, and couldn’t find him anywhere, and I said to hell with it, and just yelled to him that if another cat attacks him and he gets another infected wound, he can just figure out how to heal himself because I am tired of shelling out 50 bucks every time he does this crap.
That bold stance lasted about a half hour, and I got in the car and drove around the neighborhood looking for him. I finally found him a block away near the neighbor cats, and tried to get him, but he kept running from me. So I did the next best thing. I followed him in the car at 3 miles per hour, and every time he stopped I lay on the horn. This scared the hell out of him, he ran about 30 feet, and stopped. At which point I would blast the horn again. I did this until I got him in the neighbor’s yard, at which point I parked the car in the garage, and doubled around the neighbor’s house so I was behind him and his only route for escape was to go through my fence gate. Once I got behind him, I tore after him yelling “BOOOGA BOOGA BOOGA” and he ran like hell towards my house, through the back gate, and into the safety of my yard.
*** Update ***
I just had my revenge. Tunch was lazing in between the raised gardens, enjoying himself, and just sort of relaxing. Which meant there was only one thing for me to do… TURN ON THE SPRINKLERS.
If he makes the connection between me and the sprinklers, I am screwed.
*** Update #2 ***
This is genius:
Cole’s post rewritten by Cormac McCarthy:
It’s a hard world for a slim flower. The pansies lay in the dust their petals dessicated by a raw wind and a deadly sun. The weight of feline lassitude broke their flowery camel’s backs. When the gate opened the critter bolted and the fat man gave no chase this day.
And yet he did chase in his own way, through modes of hesitation and aggression learned from Uncle Sam’s armed mass. His thinner days came back to him like a felt kiss and he nearly wept but remembered the cat and his many, many sins.