After yesterday’s bit of gloom and doom, and seeing as how it is Christmas Eve, here are a couple happy and gay notes – happy, anyway.
Cousin Jack grew up in Jersey (Down Neck), before he migrated to the Left Coast many years ago. He tells a wonderful story about buying Christmas trees in Jersey from “Whitey” down the block, with special emphasis on the year his family ended up with a particular stinky tree.
Remember Junior? He’s the cat that’s not our cat, but who regularly shows up for morning and evening victuals with a very long nap in between. Well, a few days ago, he showed up, obviously all banged up. He was not walking on his right front leg, his face was scraped and his coat looked like hell. I suspect that he had a run in with a car, and the car won.
He ate a little and crashed on his spot (even though he’s not our cat, he has a spot) and barely moved. I walked over the neighbor who
has asserted dominion over owns the cat and told them that the cat was in my house, and I thought he should be taken to a vet.
The neighbor came by and took the cat, stating that he would take him to the vet. Frankly, I had my doubts. Junior didn’t show up for a couple days, and I figured that that was the end of him.
Well, I don’t know if he ever was seen by a vet, but he appeared yesterday and, although he still slightly favors his right front leg, he looked just fine. In fact, he effortlessly made the leap from the deck to the deck railing.
After morning chow, he made himself comfortable under the tree. Sorry that the picture is blurred, but, as you can see, the feline ne’er do well looks pretty good.