Yep, KiKi found a cat…actually he found her and God save us all.
KiKi was supposed to be at home watching Dancing With the Stars but did she? Heck no!! All this because I took Mercedes to a B&E (breaking and entering and that’s Mercedes the gal and not the ride). KiKi’s had her shorts in a bunch ever since. So she went off sleuthing on her own and this is what happened…
KiKi opened her purse to two eyes and a meow.
“You have a cat in a Gucci bag?” I put my hand in to pet and it hissed. “A mean cat in a Gucci bag.”
KiKi swiped her mangled hair from her dirty face and tried to straighten her torn skirt. “And you have scratches. That’s bad from a stray. Maybe we should get you to the ER.”
“It’s not from the cat it’s from climbing the tree. I was checking this house just to see if it tied in any way to the that murder and the cat was living under the deck and I scared him and he ran off and the dog next door chased him into the woods and up a tree and all I could hear was this pitiful meow.”
“You really climbed a tree?”
“It was that help others sermon, wasn’t it. Does everyone else get into this much trouble from going to church on Sunday morning?”
“Hey, it could be worse, no one’s fed us to the lions yet.”
“It’s only seven, there’s time.”
So now I live next door to cat and not a nice one who’s peed in a twelve-hundred dollar purse and KiKi is calling the little darling Precious.
The moral of the story is don’t listen to the sermon in church...or maybe it’s don’t go sleuthing with Auntie KiKi when she’s ticked off.
Wish me luck
Reagan Summerside from hot and muggy Savannah