Cougar's Not Dead!

When you live in an apartment complex, you get to know your neighbors pretty well. You see them daily as you walk to your car. You can hear them through the walls. You watch them as they meander to and fro from the trash dumpster. You witness them as they walk out into the yard to use the bathroom after dinner-

What? You didn't think I was talking about my human neighbors, did you? Please. (For the record, all units in Fairfield Crossing Apartments are outfitted with proper bathroom facilities.)

I'm talking about pets. Now according to our Rental Agreement, (which I carry with me for any spur of the moment towing disputes), Item 13 states, "No pets allowed on premises at any time - Tenant agrees not to keep any dog, cat, parrot, or any kind of pet without the prior written consent of the landlord. Well, judging from our menagerie, nearly every resident must have an in with the Leasing Office of Stupidity (LOS.). (Meanwhile, the outcasts in 104 don't get pets from LOS, no, we get leaky bathroom ceilings. Thanks, LOS!) The complex is crawling with creatures, and I thought in order to understand Condon's natural dwelling better, I could showcase some of our finest.

You see, pets didn't even come up as a decent blog topic (blopic?) mainly because I am not in direct contact with any that I have an emotional attachment to. I'm sure my parents got through having a dog when I was growing up with the old "You're allergic to ______" excuse. (That's a whole other post, trust me.) So shelving PetsTalk since July didn't seem like that big of a deal. But then, last night, in the shadows of the night, the one local animal I have an affinity towards crossed my post-work path.

Cougar.

We met Cougar within in the first week of living at Random of Run. And even though words will not do this hellcat justice, I'll do my best. This is no normal feline. Cougar, (so aptly named) is probably 14-15 inches tall, 18 inches long, and a whole lot of kitty. At first we thought Spud had just misjudged its size on account of no depth perception, but no, he's really this big. And once we had Cougar to walk around on the way to the apartment, we found that Cougar had friends. Two, to be exact.

Enter Maverick and Goose.

Clearly no match for the mammoth Cougar, Maverick and Goose are smaller, quicker, and are less likely to knock small children off their bikes. Now, these three did not have these names by coincidence; it was merely our attempt to make the neighborhood that much more fun to live in. (For the record, we have yet to dub an Iceman cat, but we are currently taking applications.) Now the 3 cats disappeared after the summer of 2003, but last night, one came back. Good ole' Cougar, home from battle. He can be my wingcat anytime.