A few months ago Wes and I went out of town and like the questionable parents that we are, realized about 30 seconds before departure that we needed someone to check in on Senior Chang . He's a pretty low maintenance feline but I don't think any domesticated pet is low maintenance enough to go 5 days without some kind of assistance in the food/water/feces disposal area. Thankfully Erica came to the rescue and agreed to periodically check in on Captain Thunderpaws while we were out of town. In return for this favor (and the loan of a spiffy vacuum cleaner) I am feeding and checking in on Pickles Kukulka-Blake while they are out in Texas.
After my adventure at the Kukulka-Blake abode last night, I'm about 96% sure that their neighbors are going to call the cops on me next time I show up there. It all started you see with my initial approach to their house, which I admit may have been a bit unorthodox. It's not really a good excuse but I haven't been there for a while and may have driven past the house the first time and then I MAY have enjoyed the thrill of rolling downhill in neutral the second time. In light of later events I fear it may have appeared that I was casing the joint. So pass number 3 I pulled into the driveway and I climbed (and when I say climb, I mean climb. Their house is on a decent sized hill and their driveway slopes up steeply perpendicular to the road, no matter how you cut it you're CLIMBING) out of the car. I then meandered my way (a burgler wouldn't meander right?) up to the front door where I try, not once, but TWICE to insert the house key into the incorrect lock. I blame the cold medicine.
Once inside I was greeted by the frustrated screams of the precious Gherkin who had been alone for a whopping 9 hours. He meanders over to me and proceeds to be absolutely adorable, meowing, leaning into my legs, even adoringly gazing up at me with his head on my foot. It was a trap. No sooner to I lean down to give him a scritch behind his ears, the talons and fangs came out had it not been for my lighting fast reflexes, I might have lost my hand. Thankfully while my cold medicine has impaired my mental processes it hasn't hurt my reflexes and I escaped the decapitating swipe of The Pickles. He is a feline whose love and cuddles you must EARN.
Lesson learned.
On I went with my duties, refreshing water, refilling dry food and putting out wet food to satisfy the carnivorous cravings of the The Pickle. After double checking to make sure the guest room doors were closed I then made my way out of the house: loaded down with a gouda sandwich, vacuum (both authorized to be removed) and a diet coke (unauthorized but hopefully excusable.) Into the driveway where I propped the trunk of my car open with my head and proceeded to load in my booty. Had anyone been watching from their front porch, saw the approach, heard the screams from my battle with the guard cat and then witnessed my departure loaded down with the goods...well I'm carrying ID with me next time I go is all.
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