Illustration by Jan A. Igoe
My heart always races when an official postal person interrupts breakfast to trade a certified letter for my signature in triplicate. It never means anything good. Whenever we win an overseas lottery, they notify us by e-mail.
“Let me guess. Some medical bill our insurance declined in 2004, right?” I asked Hubby, who had already pounced on the envelope and slid his bifocals down for the kill.
Nope. He handed me the contents and proceeded to pound his head on the kitchen table.
Apparently, the owner of a pumpkin-striped, white-bellied feline wearing a blue polka-dot collar decided to share several exquisite Photos of Cat Poop (or “PCPs” as we collectors call them). The 8 x 10 glossies must have been shot with an extremely sharp macro lens, because each granule of cat litter was the size of a potato, which made the focal point that much more impressive.
Talk about your “Hallmark moments.”
Some background: Poor Hub was drafted to serve on our homeowners association board because he exemplifies the traits of so many great leaders. He can fix anything (eventually), has a high tolerance for maniacs and responds with, “Yes, Dear,” when females want something done. So they sent one to recruit him.
Now, he collects cat photos and bangs his head a lot. He also separates neighbors who want to solve four-legged trespassing problems with a nine-iron from those who consider kitty litter suitable for framing.
The latest PCPs were sent to board members as proof that certain calling cards—allegedly discovered next door to the suspect cat’s domicile—were not the work of the sender’s falsely accused feline, who would be seeking damages for pain and suffering.
This, the accompanying letter charged, was a clear case of mistaken identity by an anti-cat
neighbor—probably some sniveling dog owner who couldn’t pick out a Manx from a Maine Coon in a lineup. Any resemblance between the letter writer’s law-abiding cat and the perpetrator was purely coincidental. The cat’s lawyer said so.
Oddly enough, we had already received an earlier batch of photos showing a pumpkin-striped, white-bellied pussycat in a blue polka-dot collar standing on its hind legs investigating the bird bath owned by our letter writer’s neighbor. If that wasn’t the cat in question, it sure looked like its evil twin.
Yet in the words of our feline rights activist: “You have no proof this was our cat. We are enclosing a photo of cat poop so you can see what it looks like. Cats do not do their business on pine straw. They bury it in dirt. Just the fact that we have to photograph our cat’s deposits to prove our point shows how ridiculous some neighbors can be.”
You can’t argue with logic. Especially when it arrives certified.
Jan A. Igoe is a wife, mother, newspaper editor, humorist and illustrator. She lives in Horry County.