Yesterday my husband was approached by a neighbor regarding a stray cat in the area.  “Don’t touch the cat with that brown patch on its back,” she said.  “It’s sick and dying and real mean.”  And with that she launched into a tale about teenage boys watching her and how she had to scare them off with her cane.  Nothing escapes her paranoid leanings  but she likes my husband and always alerts him about the shady dealings that are (not) going on in the neighborhood.  We thought we were going to lose her due to apoplexy the time the library across the street hired “black thugs” from VisionQuest to do their remodeling or the time “criminals” were breaking into her car at night and switching the wires around so she couldn’t escape (from the raping and robbing that was sure to come). But she lived.  And voted for Trumpp [sic].

The cat story was just the opening she needed to start the usual conversation about how people on welfare are sucking up all the money from the “good ones” and how Trumpp [sic] is being harassed by the media and that we just need to give him time to learn the job.  “He’ll make it work,” she said with confidence. “You’ll see.”

My husband is never confrontational with this neighbor but politely nods and gently inserts some benign statement about the affairs of the nation and the general goodness of people.  He acknowledged that our new leader needed some time “to learn the job” but added that he worried about some others like Jeff Sessions.

Who’s Jeff Sessions? she asks.

Yep.  About that cat…

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