The Chase Is Great

Shark is an outdoor cat, haughty, wears a killer crown. He has a kill room around the corner, under a bunch of bushes. In the summer a variety of carcasses are unbearably smelly. I have to dispose of them, for my dad was a fur dealer, and “you are used to pelts”. Sorry, I never get used to them…. I am deathly allergic to all cats; Shark is no exception. He deserves a much better home, but he has claws and no one wants him. So he hangs out here, but this is his eleventh year and he is older. I figure he will get pneumonia and die in the Kansas winter, so when it is below freezing, I put him into my art studio/office. The chase is great. Last night I chased him down three times. Once he hit me over the head with a magazine. Then he bit me. Then he scratched me with both hind feet. I finally let him go. Freeze to death, I told him. I wish you well. I stayed up late, watching a movie. Shark appeared on the window ledge at 10:30 p.m. Meowing and moaning an apology. I got his food together, and put on some warmer clothes. Opened the door to pick him up, and he meowed a fierce cry. Spit in my face and took off. I was debating about staying up until midnight. The dog rolled her eyes. Knowing I would probably do it.