All right, it pisses me off, but I go since he pays me and if I don’t he’ll tell on me again and get me into all kinds of trouble, none of which I want to hear right now. So after I hoof my butt over there to get his sorry ass, what do I find?

Yes, you guessed it. Nothing but a couple of homeless people who think I’ve lost my mind as I search for my “cat” while holding male clothing which I slowly remember won’t do any good since he can’t shift back into a human until after I get him home. That rank bastard and his pranks.

A curse of poxes on his head. Better yet, I hope he gets fleas (I would wish ticks, but then I’d probably get Lyme disease from him). So fleas. Lots and lots of fleas!

I’m sure Catman Moron found some bimbo to shack up with and shag for the day, but damn it all. Couldn’t he have called and told me that? No. So here I am, chugging extra-caffeinated espresso and hoping I stay awake for my test this afternoon. Thanks, boss. Appreciate it. You are the best. Where’s Animal Control when you really need them? Better yet, get me an ax so I can cut off his head, and I don’t mean the one on his shoulders.

Mood: Pissed

Song: “Everything About You”: Ugly Kid Joe

Susan let out a tired breath as she rubbed her brow. Oh, yeah. The girl needed some serious professional help. But what the hell? It wasn’t like she had anything else to do other than go and investigate the Immortal Catman of Pike’s Market.

Susan cringed at the thought. “Now I’m doing it, too… Cheesy headlines are us.” Groaning, she rubbed her eyes. “You know, if my life was a horse, I’d shoot it.”

No matter the location or day, every animal shelter in the United States seemed to always hold the same pungent odor of cleaning antiseptic mixed with wet fur. And even though the shelters were warmed, there was always an odd chill to the air. One that penetrated straight to the bones.