Scandalous

In times of scandal, the prudent course of action is to get in front of the story, to take control and set the record straight. Therefore, this post will serve as damage control for a fraud and misrepresentation that has been occurring within our family.

Charlie Brown is not our cat. And, it would seem he never was. Charlie -- or "Blankey," as his real owner calls him -- was brought to his residence as a small kitten, where he has lived, mostly comfortably (more in a minute), since. Owner "Sam" (not his real name) lives three or four houses down, catty cornered to our home. If you happen to be a cat, the distance from backyard-to-backyard is 50 feet, once you scale a six foot wooden fence.



We were playing outside this weekend with Charlie/Blankey in attendance when Sam drove through the neighborhood. He stopped, we discussed the cat briefly, and he rode off with his cat in his vehicle. Sam seems to have an open-door policy on sharing food provisions with a couple of extra cats. One much larger, unnamed cat presumably asserted himself as the alpha cat and drove Charlie from his residence. He sought refuge here. At least, that is my theory. It may be as simple as Sam is at work daily, whereas we are home, usually banging about loudly when we are not zipping from one event to another.



Skip's theory is that Charlie/Blankey is a con artist who has been working the entire neighborhood. Whatever the story is, I have not seen Charlie much this week. Perhaps he realizes the jig is up. Maybe Charlie (or Blankey, or whatever he is calling himself these days) has a conscience and is embarrassed. In the meantime, Skip has practically been giddy over the idea of a pet-less existence once more, and I am working to shake the "crazy cat lady" moniker.