Not again! Another black cat failed to dare cross my path the other day and.. yet another one the day after.. Well, it had happened many, many times before but seemed to stop when (<--) this little fellow appeared in the household and stayed. Phew, I thought then. It's tamed. So I’m not a witch after all. Yes, that’s what I would think before. Who wouldn’t? Black cats, traditionally associated with witchery, suddenly changing their alpha-wave minds and ways because of me were not the only reason. Add a bunch of friends calling me a witch, witcha, small town witch and .. they have been good friends, which makes it all maliciously close to a (home) truth. It’s all back now, the cat thing, much to my amazement.
But let’s not freak out. Let’s ascribe some sensible meaning to it. Why would a cat (invariably black) come near the edge of a road, look my way and rally to reverse like the road is not a road but a chasm of immediate peril? Well.. isn't that what all pussies do..?
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