I flipped off a cat yesterday. It wasn't doing anything wrong; just sitting at the end of my driveway watching me eat lunch. I wasn't in the mood for onlookers. I wasn't in the mood for my seven thousandth bowl of chicken broth with noodles. And I wasn't in the mood for cats.
Just to clarify. I've never written the words 'flip off', and I've almost never used my middle finger for anything but a joke. But I don't have feelings for felines. Too lazy to get up to yell out the window or 'shoe' it away (running shoes aren't just for running) I slurped my soup, stared at the cat and flipped it off.
It was like a stranger on a busy street intercepting the wave intended for another. The cat looked over its shoulder as if to say, "Is this bird for me?"
It was just what I needed to pull my head from my soup and realize that worrying about my woes wasn't worth it.
