I Stole the Neighbour’s Cat Yesterday


I stole the neighbour’s cat yesterday.

Not because I’m a Crazy Cat Lady and needed another feline to add to my ever growing collection, but because I thought Pippy Long-Stockings had roamed too far and was now officially “the furthest from the Shire that she’s ever been.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt when my car halted to a stop. There was Pippy, a block from home, strutting around like she owned the joint. Little to my knowledge, she actually did own the joint.

I noticed that she had amazingly removed her collar to deny any claims of ownership. Rather than accept that this was not the droid, I mean cat, I was looking for, I angrily picked her up and placed her in the backseat of my car.

She didn’t even acknowledge my existence. No meow, no nothing. It never occurred to me that I had committed the crime of catnapping.

I drove the block towards my street, wondering what had I done as an owner to deserve this kind of treatment? Maybe she didn’t like it when I posted her pictures all over Facebook? I suppose I never asked for permission.

I pulled into the driveway, grabbed Pippy from the car and stopped in my tracks when I noticed her doppelganger sitting at the gate. The real Pippy was there, bugging her eyes at the strange cat I had just brought home.

There’s awkward and then there’s awkward.

I’m not saying that all black and white cats look alike…

But they so look alike.


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