No Children Here

My housemate works in Boston and is often gone for several weeks at a time. He leaves me in charge of a very old Black Lab named Zeebo. The dog is deaf, nearly blind and cannot walk a lot. I have been taking a little pride in the fact that he is doing well under my care. He can climb stairs, walk more than a mile and seems generally better.

Housemate's mother lives two blocks from here. She went on vacation and left me in charge of her cat, whose name and gender escape my memory. The cat stays away from me, which is fine.

Today dawned beautifully. I took the dog out for his walk and upon returning I got him onto the back porch and hung up his leash. There went the cat out the door. I chased it passively across several yards when suddenly it took off down someone's driveway and across the street. I came back home and the dog was gone. All the physical rehab has paid off. In just three minutes he was out of sight. I drove over to Suzannes' house thinking he might have gone there with the cat. Then I went to Uncle Blue's house where he used to live. Nope.

I learned that driving up all the alleys and down all the streets in this neighborhood can quickly put thirty miles on your car. An hour and a half later I was broken. I called Jim on his cell. I knew he was at an ordination but since it is Episcopal I figured they would be drinking somewhere. He said not to worry, just check the door every so often.

Eventually there was a knock on the door. The lady asked me if I owned a black lab. I eyed her car looking for dog size dents before admitting it. She said he was at the restaurant where she works. I got the van and drove down there. He was inside the Knife and Fork feasting on chicken. He just perked his ears at me and went on enjoying the attention from the staff and patrons. Thankfully he caught sight of the van and happily charged to the door. His favorite pastime is sitting in the van whether it's moving or not so I had the problem of rewarding his running off with a treat.

The cat is still missing. I have no idea what to do. I asked her tenant to keep an eye out for it but the sanctimonious sweater fag said, "What am I gonna do with it?" I thought all gay men just love kittens. Maybe it's lesbians. I have a hard time keeping my stereotypes straight. (Hahah)

This is why I should not have my own children. I will look after their physical wellbeing, forgetting that sometimes they just want chicken and a good petting. I will reward bad behavior with treats. I will forget their names and will have no plan of action in case of emergency. I may even try to replace them if they get lost, hoping their mother will think she forgot what they look like after being gone for a month.

I wonder if she'll at least prorate my pay for the week I did take care of the cat?