She comes out to her backyard every day around 10:00 am. She’s dressed in a green coat with the hood pulled up so that we can’t see her face. Our backyards connect to each other and by now she has got to know that I watch her every morning.

She looks to be an older lady, maybe in her late 50’s but it’s hard to tell because sometimes the trees block my view. I have to go out and trim them soon so my neighbor stalking can be more efficient. I do the dishes and watch her, entranced.

As she walks out of the house she has a little ball on a string. It’s a brightly colored ball, I think rainbow colors. But then again, I’m slightly color blind, so it could be plaid for all I know.

I see her step out into her yard and begin to play with her pet. It jumps, runs around the yard, sometimes even stops at her feet and looks up to her for a treat.

It’s a weird looking little dog. Very puffy with a weird face that’s hard to see because of the extra puff that surrounds it face. It’s a pretty quick little thing, probably has to be to catch that ball every morning and leave me spellbound by my morning visits.

It’s on the third day in our new neighborhood in ghetto-loving bliss, that I notice that it’s not a dog at all.

It’s a cat.

In Texas we had neighbors that were ex-meth users. But hey, addiction is a day by day battle; I just don’t want my neighbors to battle it in my front yard. These are the same neighbors that the wife came over to my house at midnight to say “hi.”

Neither of them worked and I wasn’t sure how they could afford to live in the house. After they built the 10 foot high fence, my wife was absolutely sure that they had an open field of the best hydroponics and a group of Umpa Lompa’s working for “special brownies.” The smell of their weekend Pink Floyd concerts would waft over our fence.

Flat out, they were weird.

Leaving Texas, I thought that we were done with the whole screwball neighbor thing. We were going to Kansas, rolling hills of amber grain, clear open skies and apparently people who play with their cats like they are dogs.

Seriously, I don’t think I have seen anything weirder from my backyard.

I have tried to understand this. I have tried to watch and see what kind of forbidden dance this is, I have tried to understand, but God help me I just can’t.

What the hell is going on? Every morning this happens and I just can’t figure it out.

I have two cats and I don’t play with them in the backyard at all. In fact, I try to stay away from one of them as much as possible because she is constantly trying to kneecap me.

Cats are evil and I wonder if this cat lady neighbor knows this as she throws the ball across the lawn for her cat. My cat would go after the ball, dig up her Glock that she had buried there and then come back and kneecap me.

I know that my cat is constantly plotting against me, trying to figure ways to rub me out. In her closet, which she rarely leaves, I once found a dead rat hooked up to some wires and a car battery I see nothing and the game goes on. Her trying to tear my Achilles and me trying to pretend that she does not exist.

So what’s this game that the cat in the backyard is playing, what’s his angle? Is he confusing the women, masquerading as a dog to lull this woman into a false level of security so that she thinks she is safe from someone breaking into her house only to open the door herself and letting the marauders in? There’s an angle here, I know it and everyday that I watch, I fear for the lady’s safety. Should I do something? Should I put a contract out on the cat? That may be my only option.

But it wouldn’t do any good because cats can’t die. Nine lives is the estimate but it’s on the low side.

I have another cat that basically uses me and my house like it’s a youth hostel. He goes away for days at a time, comes home to eat, poops and then leaves again. On occasion he’ll throw up in the hallway in the middle of the night so that I step in it the first thing in the morning. He spent a lot of time over at the Texas neighbor’s house on the weekends and would come home very stinky and craving Doritos.

This cat has cheated death on numerous times. A couple of years ago he was running from a dog and pulled his Achilles heel as he just narrowly missed gaping jaws. That little injury cost me 2,000 bucks to fix. I had to keep him in a cast and in a kennel for 2 months. For 2 months he was not allowed to move and he used that time to further plot against me.

As soon as I let him out he attacked a bird but he lost. I heard him screeching under the car as he got repeatedly dive bombed by something that he couldn’t attack from behind. He’s sneaky and my car got dented.

A week ago he was out in the ghetto hood that we live in scoping out places that he could snipe me when he was hit by a car. Don’t worry, he’s fine. He ain’t so pretty anymore, but he’s fine. He’s fine because we had to make an emergency trip to the vet and spend another 500 bucks. He’s got a skinned head, a bloody nose and lost some teeth but that’s it.

He’s the terminator, you can’t stop him. But he’s not the brains behind this operation. The closet cat remains the godfather and I know what they are trying to do.

I went over my vet bills for the last couple of years and I have spent 4,000 bucks on the outside cat. They are trying to bleed me dry, weaken me financially and disrupt the Hossman economy to create discord, then they will attack.

So I watch this lady and her cat every morning trying to figure out what scheme is being played out. Although I don’t want to watch to closely, they don’t like witnesses. She tosses the ball, he goes and gets it. She twirls the ball on the stick, he chases it.

I miss the meth neighbors.

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