I came home after my encounter with the Evil Geniuses.
Inky sat on the kitchen floor,
In the middle of the floor.
In front of her was a dime.
I didn’t know Inky liked Pistachio Nuts.
I began to wonder if anyone cared about Inky.
Such a sad thought.
Then I got a call from a guy who said, “It looks like my cat.”
“So come and get it,” I said.
He hammered on my door.
I opened it.
He was a big, broad guy in a brown jacket.
Face with a scar.
“Lemme see the cat.”
I picked up Inky.
Inky hissed at him and her fur stood up.
“That’s not my cat,” he said and walked away.
I decided I was Inky’s owner.
I took down all the notices.
I’m not a litter bug.
I waited for someone to respond to my FOUND CAT notice.
I waited and I couldn’t keep my mind off it.
I waited 1 day.
I waited 20 days.
This is not going well.
Or is it?
Inky has been with me for a few days now.
Naturally, I have begun to wonder, who is her real owner?
I printed 100 Found Cat notices with a picture of Inky.
It had the large words FOUND CAT and my phone number.
I posted these notices on every tree and door within half a mile.
Waiting to say goodbye.
I was invited to a party but I didn’t go.
Instead, I stayed home and petted Inky on the head.
Inky was thrilled.
A black cat came to live with me.
It wandered in through the window.
But I’m on the 2nd floor.
I instantly recognized the astuteness of this cat.
And I named her Inky.
That’s a good name for a cat.
Inky and I had potato chips on the window ledge.