Sometimes late at night, I'll grab a drink and go out on the front steps to think.
But I'm never alone.
There are always four or five cats out patrolling the neighborhood.
One sits underneath the lamppost.
One rests on a manhole cover.
And there are always two or three others at different strategic positions.
They stare at me. I hiss at them. They don't budge.
It's a little game we play. But I always lose.
They're not afraid of me. They have bigger conquests in mind.
I think we must have vampires or chupacabras roaming our streets while we're all snug in bed.
Or maybe just mice.
Song of the day: Waterloo by ABBA
I Hate Cats
