Back in the day, my dear children lived about an hour away. They'd spend every other weekend with me, and most of the summer.
Ever wanting to compensate for being a part-time dad, I got them a dog. Buddy was his name, and he was a beauty. A German shepherd to my eye, but my elderly Jewish neighbour claimed he was an "Alsatian." I think she just had a hang-up about letting the word "German" pass her lips. She probably categorised me as Alsatian too.
Some Jews were like that. I preferred the other ones, like my dearly beloved professor Sam Sidlofsky, proudly tooling around town in a Mercedes roadster with the vanity plate IAMSAM.
Here's to you, sir!
But I digress...
I also got them a kitten.
We were a happy family. Buddy and the kitten got along great, and for a few weekends the kids had both a dog and a kitty to amuse them.
What I'll say about the Alsatian is he could be a little aggressive at times, especially if you crowded his food dish.
One night I let kitty out on the deck, where Buddy and his food dish were hanging out. I kind of forgot about them. Next morning, I couldn't find kitty.
Then I found her tail.
That was one of those "oh fuck me" moments.
It wasn't hard to figure out what happened. Kitty stuck her face in Buddy's food dish, and that was the end of that.
I had a problem. The kids were coming up in a couple of days. They'd definitely notice their kitten was missing.
So I festooned the town with "lost kitten" posters on every other telephone pole.
I even offered a generous reward. The kids bought it till I fessed up, twenty years later.
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