A One Hundred Dollar Bill Walking Down the Street.

A One Hundred Dollar Bill Walking Down the Street.

Waiting.

Punctuated by going to see Dad in the hospital.

That’s been my last few days.

Except when I look outside and see a white ball of fur running away.

THAT CAT.

Or this cat.

My parents’ neighbors moved recently. She had a number of cats. There was one she left behind to collect once they got settled.

This feline gal.

For days she’s been AWOL and the owner in her new digs is crazy with worry.

Every time I see a blur of cream run across the yard I dial her on the phone.

“S., I just saw the cat.”

“Was she cream. A short hair, with eyes as blue as the sky?”

Honestly, that wiley beast darts away so quickly I wasn’t sure she was puffy or not. And I certainly didn’t know of her eye color.

The distraught owner faxed us a photo for a correct I.D. (The above picture.)

Today, I was sitting having coffee looking out at the little lake my parent’s house abuts when  . . .

BAM.

I came face to face with THAT CAT.

Her head popped up against the window. She was cream, short-haired and eyes of blue.

Get her.

But by the time I made it to the door, she was two houses away.

Drat that cat.

I once again phone S. “I just spotted the cat.”

S. raced over and called and looked only to come up with empty hands.

That’s when she told my husband of the reward. A hundred George Washingtons for the cat’s return.

Later in the day my husband saw her. Way up the street sure as there will be collard greens on our table this New Years — was that rascally feline — sauntering up the brick streets.

A fat $100 bill just lying there.

Everyone raced up there.

She — the $100 cat — evaporated.

For now.

Any ideas on catching the cat?