One morning Billie and I were on the way back to my place from her usual morning walk to drop off the kids. Often when we get closer to home, I let Billie get out one last squirt. On this particular morning’s final squirt, Billie came across a large protective mother cat, which looked like it just gave birth. She was not happy about being discovered. So much so, that she started following us as I tried to pull Billie away.
Billie was up for the fight, but she had no chance against this cat. This cat was in full kill mode. Billie was barking and barking while I tried dragging her away. I hissed and kicked dirt at the pursuing cat, but this scruffy momma cat was not discouraged. Like Mel Gibson in Braveheart, this cat was on a mission.
I was running out of options on how to shoo this 25lb kitty away, then I realized my last one. It was the sack of Billie’s leftovers in my right hand. I did a quick underhand flick of the wrist and the sack flew with a great velocity. It hit the angry momma cat right between the eyes. With that, she scurried off and away.
I may have reduced myself to a poo throwing monkey at the San Diego Zoo, but at least we were safe. I picked up the sack, dropped it in the proper receptacle and brought Billie back home.
The next morning I made sure Billie and I were on the other side of the street for her final go. However my neighbor was not benefiting from my experience, because she and her greyhound were in the same predicament Billie and me were in the prior morning. I had this boiling urge to help, so I yelled across the street the only advice I felt qualified to give, “Throw your poo!”
