I’m sorry…I hate to be so harsh, but I guarantee you will use the same language, or worse, which is what I’m really inclined to do, once you hear the story.
A few weeks ago, I was putting laundry away in our bedroom when I heard a car drive up. Looking at the clock and noticing that it was only 3 pm, I thought that it was awfully early for Mr. B…but then again, he had mentioned an afternoon meeting and maybe he’d had more than enough for this particular Thursday and decided to skip the rest of the day.
I heard footsteps on the porch, but after a few minutes those footsteps headed back toward me. Peering out the window I saw a young man standing just outside that window, looking back to the driveway and appeared to be giving some kind of hand signals to someone else. Me, being me, I stuck my face in the window and asked, “Can I help you?”
Somewhat surprised, he gave me that spiel we’ve all heard before…”We’ve been out delivering to your neighbors and have a lot of leftover meat that we’re giving away….”. I’m thinking, “Great, I get to deal with this nonsense”, but saying, very firmly, “No…no, thank you.” And as he promptly vacated my porch I thought…”Well that was easier than usual.”
A few minutes later I walked into the kitchen and noticed that Sassy was outside having a conniption. The thing is that Miss Sass doesn’t just bark at any and everything…we’ve come to the conclusion that when she does get worked up there’s probably something we need to investigate. So investigate I did. Keep in mind here that the back forty is enclosed with a 6-foot privacy fence, so I was viewing the activity in the driveway through a quarter inch gap in the gate. What I saw is somewhat puzzling, although not alarming, considering what we have going on in our driveway. (One corner contains a very large pile of very large rocks and in the curve of the driveway there is a very large section of a very large tree that Mr. B decided to take down while I was out of town; which got him the lecture about not doing dangerous stuff while there is no one there to call an ambulance.) Anyway, my quarter inch view revealed another young man standing outside the meat truck directing "porch boy" in backing up his truck. I was thinking, “Okay, there’s plenty of room here, and your truck is not that big, but, whatever…go the hell away before my dog has a stroke.” They left...finally.
A few hours later Mr. B arrived at his usual time and immediately asked, “Why is there a dish of water out front?” Somewhat exasperated and not bothering to hide that exasperation, I sighed, “Remember, I told you I put a dish of water on the front porch for Dolly because she can’t get into the backyard?” (Dolly, like me, prefers the front porch.) He, very patiently, explained, “No, there’s a container of water in the driveway.” I went out to investigate yet again, and, sure enough, there was a water-filled small plastic container in the driveway. And even though I was thinking “WTH?”, I just picked it up, dumped it out, and threw it in the trash.
Another few hours later, I went outside to check on the pup and enjoy the cool evening when I heard a strange mewling coming from somewhere in the direction of the driveway. Thinking it was a strange night bird, I hollered at Mr. B, who was completely oblivious to my call. Hearing it again, it occurred to me exactly what I was hearing…a cat…a kitten to be specific. And then, it all came together…those douche bags had been dumping a kitten in our driveway, and for some stoopid reason their leaving a dish of water made them feel better about themselves. (Guess what, guys? You are still pond scum!)
I grabbed a flashlight and discovered this little muss-muss!
(Please excuse the blurriness of these pictures; kitty boy wouldn't stand still for his portrait session)
As scared as he appeared to be, it didn’t take much coaxing to get him to come to me, and by the time I had him in my hands, he was purring his thanks as only a grateful kitty could. He scored himself a warm bed, some half and half, and some kibble. He also clung to me as if I were his last hope for salvation.
(For the sake of perspective, you need to know that this tiny little wonder is eating from a salad plate.)
Dolly had an epic hissy fit.
Mr. B was not pleased, but when I outlined my suspicions he added his own theory to the mix. Apparently, a few curvy roads away, there was a sign advertising free kittens. Soooo, we figure the wayward “meat boys” took one of the kittens for whatever reason, had second thoughts a few miles down the road, and decided to leave him at our house, since the driveway is not visible from the front door. JERKS!
Fearing that Dolly would probably kill this little baby, I convinced Mr. B to do the following: 1) Stop at the “free kitten” house to check out the situation, and 2) Check with his co-workers to see if anyone wanted a terribly sweet, fat, adorable, lovable, tiny little kitty boy with the biggest, most soulful blue eyes in the entire world.
One of his co-workers put out a Facebook plea, and within a few hours our little friend had a new home about 40 miles from here. Mr. B delivered the kitty to his co-worker, who, in turn, drove him to his new home.
Have a good life my little fuzzy friend.
You have no idea how lucky you were to be abandoned at our house rather than that Chihuahua invested house across the street. Those dogs are pure evil (and if they ever chase me up my driveway again, I WILL busta cap in their snarly little asses.)