I Tell Fortunes

Hi, I'm Esmeralda Gypsy Cat. In case you think otherwise, it's okay to have grown up in the streets, so be careful how you speak about my parents or you may get a paw slap, maybe with claws out.

Are you wondering how a wander-cat like me got to join this collective? It was after the Paw Mistress, Douglasina Prickle Puss, got promoted to Ancestor Spirit. Sweet, I say, but not when I know she's squatting up there on top of our kitchen cabinets, glaring at me with those hexing black-cat eyes. Hey, Miss D. that glare isn't so spell-binding now you are a ghostie.

Oh, back to my history. While Miss D. was still prowling around, the Collective let me bed down in its shed. Free board for keeping rats and mice out of their herb stores. They published an ad saying I was looking for a job as a house cat and could be easily trained up for typical inside duties. Not strictly true, but what cat won't fib to catch a meal? But I guess human employers were wise to my wiles. Moon after moon no offers.

Then this position of Paw Mistress for the Collective (Property Manager is my official title), became available and, of course, I leaped at the opportunity to move into posh digs even if I was going to share them with two arrogant dogs, two monster birds, and two toms (no need to give them an adjective).

Willis Avenue requires less property maintenance than Seventh Street since I am not supposed to patrol our living room or Human Hilary's quarters. Fine by me. More nap time. Just a hint: if you are going to check out what's happening in the kitchen, the best view is from the kitchen table. Scan from this spot when humans are elsewhere. My other watching posts are: Usually the sheepskin covered bench next to the kitchen window. Comfy and handy too for a inspection of our back garden. A second favorite is Brenda Biscuit's fake fur bedspread when I feel like tom company. By the way, my street friend Whiskers got a post with the Collective at the time we moved our headquarters to Willis Avenue. He's tough, out-spoken, and sometimes fun to chase a toy with. Malka still gets his whiskers in a snit if I lie less than a tail length from him. It is his misfortune that I appeared in his yard. Yotur's paw reading is to find a claw in his puss if he doesn't keep his nose out of my dish.

Got to go and see if Yotur has borrowed Uli's basket overnight without permission. More later.