As told to Denise Swanson
My name is not Bingo, although that’s what my human Skye Denison insists on calling me. Okay, it’s not her fault. She took me in when her grandmother was murdered and Antonia was such a Sweet Old Lady, I allowed her to call me by this ridiculous moniker. (She claimed even though she played the game every Friday night at the Lions Hall, the only time she got to say the word Bingo was when she was talking to me.)
I’ve had quite an adventurous life since Skye became my roommate. At first we lived in this cute little octagonal cottage and I was happy. But then Skye let her, now, ex-boyfriend’s mother move in with us for a week or so, and the fur hit the fan. Bunny was a middle-aged Barbie looking for a sugar daddy Ken, which of course didn’t work out at all.
Then Skye rented her cottage to this horrible TV person and her annoying little dog, and we had to move in with the parental units. Let me tell you, staying with May Denison, an animal hater, was no treat. For a Smart Cookie, Skye can be pretty dense sometimes.
We never did go back to the cottage. Skye inherited a run down money pit of a house and we moved there instead. Too bad she hired a Real Bad Boy to fix it up. You would not believe what he did to me.
Interestingly enough, after that fiasco, when Skye started dating the chief of police, I started noticing a “presence” in the house. Did you know that cats can sense ghost before humans do? I’ve gotten glimpses of her, an older lady, but she disappears when I try to communicate with her. And wooee, this is one spirit determined to keep Skye single. The ghost can be a Royal Pain, but I think there’s still Wedding Belles in Skye’s future.
What? You want to know my real name? I’ll give you a hint; it befits my handsome appearance, noble demeanor, and high intelligence. For now just call me Mr. Cat.