Betty is most curious about the workers replacing half of our sewer line (the other half was replaced in 2017). She looks at all of them as potential friends. I’d like to indulge Betty and take her out to add more friends to her lengthy list, but her legs are just too short and she won’t be able to get out of the trench. Curse those basset hound legs!
Another cat Betty and I run into occasionally lies in one specific spot in a parking lot—a spot from which it will not move. Only its demented cat brain knows why it lies motionless on cracked and oil-stained asphalt in the blazing sun.Betty doesn’t get cats. This is understandable because no one gets cats—even cats don’t get cats. There is one cat in particular that Betty and I encounter regularly. This schizo cat is clearly terrified of Betty, yet it goes into attack mode about 50% of the time we run into it. So far, my right foot has been enough of a deterrent to keep it away from Betty, but Betty is confused. Will the cat run away or will it go full out ninja on us? There must be some random cat dice in its cat brain.
