I live in a small town. Before I even leave work, people know about it at the coffee clatch kinda shit. I am working a new job and trying to stay Positive in a environment littered with self-pity and long hours. Did I mention I am the Janitor and the men's room is explosive diarrehaville? I clean up some real crime scenes.

My ex is one of my closest neighbors and my ears perk up to the sound of gun shots the other afternoon. I just figured he might be sighting me in and I actually went into the kitchen for some fucking thing or another. Really, I am just plain scared of the guy half the time and naturally assume he is plotting my demise. The other part of my mind tends to feel sorry for him from time to time. It's a real tidy shitshow.

Anyshits, turns out three cougars were crawling outta the canyon and within a few days 3 were seen on our land and shot.I feel sorry for the big cats the first night-as I am part Lioness and always vote team predators. I drank heavily and listened to Neko Case and was a lil freaked out that there were more out there in the dark night.I said a quick prayer for the baby cows and felt somewhat satisfied.

I found out the next day at work that one of those baby cougs nambed my ex's kitty Cracker. Who was an albino space cadet and such a good kitty.Had him and his brother Milk-o for a few weeks before I gave Milk-o to my study mate who needed a kitten for her lil crumbcruncher.
It was the equivalent of an Viking funeral I muttered to no one.