Furry Musketeers

As Gabriel and I drove home after a long evening of house hunting, we exited onto our little county road from the highway. After making an exaggerated stop at the sign in regards to the mysterious and often well-hidden “monster cop” as I like to call him, we slowly made our way to the apartment complex.

Up ahead, three little figures danced across the pavement in the twilight. Kittens. An orange one that looked as if it produced its own static electricity sat content near the edge of the lawn, while his overly confident black-furred brother pranced back and forth in front of us, attempting to frighten the big bad cars away. The third, a gray little thing, seemed unsure of who’s example to follow and relented to frantically jumping around while chasing a firefly. Afraid of what would inevitably turn into a kitten-tragedy, I asked Gabriel to slow the car to a stop so I could get these little musketeers out of the road. As we backed up, however, they scurried off to their house where the infamous crazy cat-man lives.

This morning, while starting off to work, I made a mental note to check that specific spot in the road. I was relieved to see it kitten free, in any state of being.

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