I have something like 18 alley cats in my neighborhood.
I’m not sure of the exacty number as it always seems to be growing.
I don’t like cats, but as far as cats go, these are good cats. I don’t bother them. They don’t bother me.
Yesterday I walked past a dead mouse on the street. Sad, but I wasn’t going to move it.
I walked outside about an hour after my initial encounter with the deceased rodent. It was still there.
If ever someone needed a Bill Belichick in their life to drop a “Do your job” on them, it was my neighborhood’s cats.
What is this, your off day? You taking PTO? I see you literally begging every human who walks by for food. You’ve conned that poor woman at the end of the block into scooping tuna out her window onto the street. Thanks for that smell, by the way.
A dead mouse on the street is the feral cat Super Bowl. It’s what they train their whole lives for.
Someone on this block – not me as like I said, I hate cats – needs to hire the cat version of Tony Robbins to come in and pump these guys up.