Here’s another “trying to find good homes for the kittens” story. It just happened. Around 9 am a person asked (texted) whether any of the kittens were still available, and I answered “yes — three. But there’s a homing fee.” The person replied “great” and suggested a drop-by around 10 or 10:15 am. Before agreeing I asked for some basic info. It was a youngish woman who said she has a cat named Timmy who’s alone all day (she works on weekdays), and who could use some company. Okay, I said.

Right around 10:10 am the woman texted “here.” I stepped outside and walked over to the front stoop.
About 50 feet away was an older white convertible covered in garish, hand-painted graffiti (green, black, pink lettering). Right away I was thinking “the hell is this?” A large, sandy-haired beefalo male (mid 30s) was behind the wheel, and the woman I’d texted, a short blonde in sunglasses (also 30ish), was in the passenger seat. They were sipping take-out Starbucks and exchanging PDA — caressing each other’s hair, etc. They looked like they’d been partying all night and hadn’t been to bed.

Obviously they were highly questionable people. No way would I entrust the well-being of a young kitten to these mongrels. What kind of grunt drives a ride like this? What kind of woman says “hey, this big unshaven galumph with longish surfer hair is kinda cute, and I love all the graffiti on his car!” Nope.

I approached them as they exited the vehicle. The woman was holding a small blue cat carrier. I said “sorry but there’s no way I’m selling a kitten to a couple sitting in a car that looks like that.” The woman said “what?” The guy said, “It’s not her car.” I shook my head and said firmly, “I’m not doing it, man.” The woman was silent. The man said to the woman, “Okay, let’s roll.” They returned to the graffiti-mobile. I waved and said “Have a nice day.”