I am resurrecting this motherfucking blog.
I live in a pretty sketchy part of Washington, DC, called Ivy City. How sketchy is it? A week ago, Snoots was attacked by two stray cats while we were out on a walk. These cats aren’t particularly big, but God DAMN are they fierce. They came at him in two coordinated waves, sorta like the “puzzle-solving smart” raptors in Jurassic Park. You almost had to admire their derring-do.
The second the skirmish(es) began, I reflexively kicked the Loony Tunes cloud of flailing animal limbs, trying to separate the animals — knowing that Snoots could, and would, kill either one of them the second he got a grip on their necks. Naturally, both of my kicks landed on Snoots, but they were enough to diffuse the situation.
The other night, my fears were (not really) realized when, on a late-night walk, a possum ran out from under a car, headed for a construction site across the sidewalk. Assface had it in his mouth before I could even assess the situation. My kick was maybe a second and a half too late (and again, I connected with Snoots). He immediately dropped it and hopped forward. The possum lay there, lifeless, its (surprisingly large) teeth bared back in a frozen snarl. Snoots had snapped its neck in a second and a half, tops.
Unless… it was playing possum?