Here, here! Settle down. No good can come of stampeding for the door. Somebody's going to get hurt. Look out for that balding fellow with a whitish discoloration on his lip--the one who looks like Humpty Dumpty with a melon head. He might shove you down if you're an old lady with a walker. Really. There's no need to rush. I promise I'm not going to talk about feces transplants again.
Remember how Hick and I decided to cast the cats out of Outer Garagia? The ungrateful fleabags with their overactive bladders were exiled to relieve themselves elsewhere. Hopefully not in a corner of the parking garage at the mall. Or in the shower at the health club. I hear that is frowned upon. That could get you arrested. Or banned. Or earn you the nickname of The Urinator.
We've been feeding those foul felines outside the garage on a shelf on the breezeway. If one runs in, we shake that food pan and entice it out. Yet Hick found Genius-the-cat curled up on T-Hoe's hood the other day. And I found that fat tuxedo fellow clambering down from the rafters by way of a sideways-hung ladder with all the grace of a pink-tulle-tutued hippo auditioning for the position of understudy for a prima ballerina in Swan Lake.
Today when The Pony and I opened my side of the garage and aligned T-Hoe with the slot, I spied Genius-the-cat curled up on the concrete slab of our approach. "Hey! There's Genius! Let's get that door closed as soon as I get in, or he'll run inside and we'll have to catch him." Genius ran in, but The Pony shooed him out the people door to the awaiting food dish. The crank of that garage door is like a bell to Pavlov's dog to those felines. They come running, even if it means to take a bite of stale dry food that has been out since 6:00 a.m.
"Genius is out, but there's that gray cat that's been in here all day."
"What? I told your dad to keep them out! Why is he letting them come in when he leaves? This is never going to work."
The Pony walked over to Hick's garage door. Bent down. Made a 'CLICK' noise. "Well...it would help if we locked the cat door."
"WHAT? I told him the very first day we kicked them out, 'We have to lock the cat door.' What in the world is he thinking? They can come in and out all day! They haven't been kicked out at all!"
"It WAS locked. But Dad unlocked it the other day. He said they needed a way to get out in case they got inside in the morning."
At the rate I'm pulling my hair out, I'm going to need to put the wig master of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat in the #1 position on my speed dial.