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Gas Pains

Tom grew up in Milwaukee, bartended in Wauwatosa in the '70s and moved here in 1984.

Commentary, observations and musings about the outdoors, life in general and maybe Tosa politics and personalities will be the order of the day. He savors a lively debate as much as terrific cooking.

Not Your Ordinary Type of Theft

Gas Pains, Politics-Other, Strange But True, Tosa Tall Tale

Yeah. I'll bet you're thinking someone swiped my Obama yard sign.  

Nope. 

Unrepentant capitalist - no Barack sign for me.

Okey-dokey. Maybe my McCain yard sign?

Nope. 

The choice of VP has left me exceedingly disappointed.  My friends, all of this recent lurching-about not only troubles me; it causes me to wonder who's in-charge anymore.

Alright - the Joeythelovesponge for Mayor sign?

I wouldn't dream of putting it out.  No way would I risk it getting appropriated by the Bidenites or the Palinistas.  It's already a pricey collectible - probably worth more on Ebay than my entire stock portfolio.

Call me hard to please but there will be no yard signs this election cycle.

I digress.

I want to tell you about a different sort of theft.

Something you won't read about in the weekly crime report. 

Prior to retiring on a recent Sunday evening I cleaned the cat box. 

I meticulously double-bagged the stuff and placed the collection of clumped litter and cat marbles on the front porch for deposit in the garbage on Monday morning.

At the crack of dawn on Monday I arose to fetch the newspapers from the porch. 

Looking about, something didn't appear quite right.   My bag of cat droppings was nowhere to be found. 

I look for the missing bag in the yard. 

Nothing.  

My logical wife said - Look beneath the porch, Tom

Nope.  Not there either. 

It had vanished. 

Some of you have probably hauled an old cracked porcelain commode, a busted storm door or ratty piece of furniture out to the curb only to have it miraculously vanish by morning.  This happens to me all the time.  I never have to haul my junk to the city dump.

But used cat litter? 

Right off the porch?  

That is bold.

I have two theories. 

The first is a varmint like a raccoon dragged it away.  Better yet - someone's Labrador retriever was the culprit. 

My second guess is that someone saw the carefully knotted plastic grocery bag sitting outside the door and thought there was something valuable inside it. 

Maybe they thought - Hey, someone baked some yummy scones for the nice people that live here and left them outside their door as a house-warming gift

With his stomach growling the hooligan tip-toes up on the porch, filches the bag and slips stealthily into the night. 

Drooling, he anticipates his illicit midnight snack. 

He thinks - Hey, these are heavier than scones.  These must be bran muffins.  Big ones, too.

Critter or person - I hope they enjoyed it.

Blech.

Tom

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Post Script -

It has occurred to me that you have not met the cat.  

She recently celebrated her twentieth birthday. 

I am informed that this is the equivalent of 96 human years.

 

She is the household's grand dame.

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