Today I tried to steal a cat. No joke. It was just so cute I don't know what overcame me. It was a tiny grey kitten, and as I was sitting in Langwith college computer room trying to find something on the Daily Mail to write about, I saw it walk past the window. Before I knew what was happening, I had logged out of the computer and was heading outside to find it. I'm not exaggerating when I say, 'before I knew what was happening'. It was like I didn't even realise what I'd just done until I was outside following it. Anyway it went under a bush, and I tried to coax it out, but it ran away. So, like the crazy cat lady I am, I went after it. By this point, I've already formed an emotional attachment to it, and I'm very concerned that if it gets away and I can't take it home, I might actually die of sadness. I decide to call Emma. She has a cat. She'll understand right? Wrong. 'So basically what you're telling me is you're trying to steal a cat?' 'BUT EMMA IT'S SO SMALL AND IT MIGHT NOT HAVE A HOME AND IT MIGHT GET EATEN BY A GOOSE OR A DRUNK DERWENT BOY OR SOMETHING! I CAN'T JUST LEAVE IT!' 'Flo. I'm trying to be the voice of sanity here. You're acting like a crazy person. Leave the cat and go to your seminar. I'm sure it will be fine.' So anyway, like the horrible person I am, I left the kitten to potentially become somethings dinner. I'm still really sad that I didn't bring it home. But I'm consoling myself with the fact that I get to see my kittens at home in 72 hours.
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| It wasn't hiding under a bush to get way from me. It was playing hide and seek. Duh. |
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