A young man came to my door last night, telling me he was with some group that was trying to keep kids out of gangs, apparently by selling me something. I never did find out what, because as he was starting his spiel, Dutch the cat took the opportunity of an open door to escape to the porch. He never gets any farther than that, just sits there not knowing what to do. But the kid jumped back with a yell and said, "That scared me!" As I scooped Dutch up to haul him back inside, the kid was walking away, muttering, "I've been scared all day." Dutch was mad, so the minute I put him down, he went to pick a fight with Maggie, which was a big mistake since, though she is smaller, she has claws and Dutch does not. It was a long night.
And you wonder why I hide in the back room with the lights off on trick-or-treat night.
Memo from Dutch to Leo: Please don't ever use the phrase "put him down" again.
P.S. I liked the "I'm selling magazines to get a college scholarship" scheme to separate me from my money at my front door much better than the "I'm selling whatever to stay out of a gang" scheme to separate me from my money at my front door. I don't know why. Maybe it's because back then, I had Pierre, and he was an inside-outside cat who had his getting-beaten-up-for-being-dumb moments in the front yard.
