Don’t Pee on Val Thevictorian’s Tire and Tell Her You’re a Kitty

Alas, poor T-Hoe. He has it as bad as Little Miss Puffytail and Daddy Gator in those Quilted Northern commercials. He is a prisoner in that garage. He cannot get up and leave. He sees all. If only he could talk. I’m surprised he can’t, actually. Because he can do everything else when all his systems are GO, which they’re not right now, or for the past year, even, because Hick won’t get him fixed. Anyhoo…

This morning I followed The Pony through the garage door, after sweet-talking my sweet, sweet Juno who ran up on the porch to see me off, and was immediately slapped in the face (figuratively, not literally) with cat pee.

Surely you remember that my “new” kitchen table and six chairs reside in the garage, even after I cleaned off the old table because Hick said he was switching them out Saturday. I don’t want a cat peein’ on my kitchen table. Or chairs.

Surely you remember that Hick said he was locking the cat door in the big metal garage door. And then we found a cat inside the next day. So now I’m wondering if Hick understands the concept of LOCK. And why one of our cats was in the garage and peed on T-Hoe’s tire. It wasn’t even raining last night. Or all week. Cats don't go in there when the weather is good, unless they hear Hick rattling their kibble in the morning.

WAIT A MINUTE! Cats don’t pee on tires! AND they don’t pee a puddle the size of a medium seal. Yet there it was, on T-Hoe’s tire, spread out on the concrete floor. And the cats were on the porch. Something is fishy about this pee business.

WHAT IF…Hick really did lock the cat door? What if none of our animals had access to the garage? What if that possum or raccoon that I suspected of using our garage as a pooping place a while back could not get in the cat door, either? What if the record shows that Hick, The Pony and Val do not sleepwalk, and were not in the least bit…um…incontinent last night?

DUN DUN DUN!

What if a PERSON, with actual thumbs, not furry or padded or clawed paws, turned the doorknob of the people door to the garage, and went inside, and peed on T-Hoe’s tire?

What if?

Before you start folding a new tinfoil had to mail to Val because her old one seems to be wearing thin...get a load of THIS.

I backed out of the garage and started up the driveway. T-Hoe's back windshield wiper took a swipe. I never use that thing. I take pride in how thick the layer of dust on that back hatch can get. Just ask my sister the ex-mayor's wife. It keeps the lights of tailgaters out of my eyes. Besides, when it's clean, the dew and dust mix and make dirt drops. As long as there's already a dirt layer, there are no drops. Just an even surface. Like a window painted beige. I looked down and saw that the control knob had the lever moved over to the first position! Indeed. That wiper took another swipe as I glanced back. I put that lever to OFF forthwith!

But that's not all! I looked at the regular front windshield wiper control, and it was set on level 4 out of 5! It wasn't swiping, though. That one will come on all at once if enough raindrops hit the glass. But I keep it on OFF as well. I can't even remember the last time we had rain. I always turn the wipers off when I enter the garage.

Something is fishy in Backroads.

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Footnote to the feline impersonator: I wrote this at school (ON MY PLAN TIME, PEOPLE!) and sat down to watch the 5:00 local news when I got home. There was a story about a county next to us, I mean RIGHT next to US, about 3 miles away, in fact, where there has been a rash of break-ins to storage sheds and garages and even an attempt at home entry. They took five fishing poles from one guy's shed. We have 10 fishing poles in our garage.

Or DO we?

Maybe somebody is fishing in Backroads...