Hemo is home! After a month and a half without the pleasure of her company, Hemo has returned to the Mutha Fudruckin’ household, none the worse for her absence, other than a slightly more pronounced independent streak. I was just about to buy some space in the local paper declaring her legally dead at the end of 90 business days and the official end of Hemo Watch, when, by chance, Ernie and I were on our way to the house around the corner to take some passion flower clippings*, and as we turned the corner, I saw a tiny gray cat perched on a similarly-colored cinderblock wall.
“That cat looks just like–OMG HEMO! HEMO! WTF ARE YOU DOING?!?”
Hemo was straight chilling on a garden wall, hanging with all of her stray cat friends. I called her name and she lazily stretched and started yelling at me.
Me: Oh my gosh, Hemo! I’ve been so worried? What are you doing here? Did you want to give me a heart attack? Couldn’t you have at least called?!?
Hemo: Dude, chill. You are embarassing me in front of my crew. What’s for dinner? Tuna? I thought I hear you say ‘tuna,’ because if you didn’t say ‘tuna’ then you can forget all about ever seeing me again. Ever.
Abandoning my quest for invasive vines, I scooped Hemo up and carried her home. She was literally 50 feet (50 FEET) from home the entire time. I’m not sure if she was truly lost or just being an asshole. I’m leaning towards asshole, but either way I’m glad she’s home. Of course I was out of cat food, having long since used the last of it to top off the dogs’ breakfast one hectic morning when I was running low (again? shocking!) on dog food, so I hand-fed her pieces of American cheese until she promised never to run away again.
Or at least leave a note next time.
On deck for tomorrow: New Business.
Oh yes, and there is a lot of it.
*Correction: I was getting passion flower clippings and Ernie was searching for the perfect bush in which to take a dump. He would want me to make this clear.