God I Love Cats

The suicide cat at Emeryville Marina really wants a piece of me.  She is impressively out of her weight division and would be sent to her maker (even with Jean siding against me – so typical) were she to get her wish.  Much more active in her elective self-destruction than suicide cat v. 1 on my street, who, while doubling down by sitting in the middle of the road with road-colored fur AND failing to flee (from crackheads, from cars, from me, from less important dogs), somehow seems more passive about her death wish.  Depressed or something.  Marina suicide cat, on the other hand, swoops out of the bushes right at me making I-need-an-exorcism sounds.  It’s absolutely fantastic.  One can only hope this trait breeds true.  A denser population would better my odds.

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