I know the thought of an Eastern
Bluebird being in love with an alley cat is ridiculous. The thing is…I was an
alley cat in my former life. I was her mate. Missy was wonderful.
Missy and I used to rummage
through overflowing garbage bins in the best of neighborhoods, feeding on the
abundant left overs of small families with large wallets. Roast pork loin
drizzling with a sweet mango sauce, broiled chicken resting in a lemony white
cream, and sometimes we would be delighted to find red snapper. Oh, how I loved
red snapper in a white wine sauce, littered with cilantro, red peppers and
capers.
Missy wasn’t too picky, she ate
almost anything edible. The things she put in her mouth would often make me
gag. At first, I tried to resist the delicious scent of a good restaurant, but
when La Sorrentina started serving red snapper as part of their menu, their
back door became my favorite foraging ground. Missy and I would fight, well,
like alley cats whenever we found the tasty fish. After a minute of play, I
would hand the food over and Missy would give me half as a reward. It was an
unspoken agreement that we lived by for years, until I saw the towering wheel
of a garbage truck heading straight for me.
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