Here Kitty, Kitty

HERE KITTY, KITTY

“What happened, Ma’am?” the burly firefighter asked.

When I opened my mouth to speak, my neighbor Mrs. Charles cut me off with her whiny voice. “Get me up! Judge Caprio starts in ten minutes. You’re making me miss my show!”

“Stay calm, ma’am,” the second firefighter said. “Are you feeling dizzy at all? Nauseated?”

Judging from the sour look on her face as she sat sprawled on the hard concrete of her front stoop, all 300 pounds of her, I was thinking she looked more angry than anything.

“Where is that blasted cat?” she bellowed. “ I’m going to kill it!”

“What cat, Ma’am?”

“HER cat!” she pointed at me. “It deliberately tripped me and I fell down. Ohh, I’m going to miss Judge Caprio, and it’s all her fault!” Still pointing at me: “That cat should be destroyed!”

My kitten Cleo, of course, was nowhere in sight.

After a bit of maneuvering the firemen got Mrs. Charles to her feet, none the worse for wear. She abruptly turned and threw open the screen door, marched inside and switched on the TV to Judge Caprio’s show, which had already started. Instantly she was lost in the program with nary a word of thanks to the firefighters nor to me--her next-door-neighbor--for calling them to help her get up.

As I let myself into my own apartment, Cleo came asking to be let in. I smiled and said, “Way to go, Cleo!"

The End

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