Right Reverend Toasty Bee tolt me that his karma could

[Shootist Comitatus]

crush my Dawgma.

Give that devil his due. I found a Russian Blue cat, malnourished, and clearly lost, at the end of my road. He had wandered up through a dense acreage of heavy swamps and woods. I fed him and checked him for wounds, fleas, and ticks.

I took him to a nearby vet, and they read a chip in his back that provided his owner's name. The owner had recently died. Per the obit, the cat was left a trust fund of $5,000 to be cared for by the dead owner's LPN, who was also mentioned in the Will on file.

I turned the situation over to a clerk I use who aspires to be Columbo. He found out from neighbors of the LPN that the cat was abused after the owner's demise. The LPN's boy toy said his gal hated the cat and abandoned him in the woods about five miles from my place. The hateful beooch kept the $5K for her own use.

The clerk and I like cats, and hate women like the LPN. We planned some type of comeuppance for the evil, crooked heifer. Our plan never materialized.

But karma did. The LPN was shot through the center mass of her torso with a 9mm at a street party recently and died in a pool of blood in the street in the hood.

Neither the cat, the clerk, nor I have cried over that 'tragedy'.

[Beatledawg]

Another feel good story! Love it!

[Toasty B]

stopped reading at Dawgma

[E.CobbDawg]

Great ending fo sho.

So…what’s become of the cat?

[Top Row Dawg]

Really, where's the pussy?

[Buzzfan®]

crush my Dawgma.

Give that devil his due. I found a Russian Blue cat, malnourished, and clearly lost, at the end of my road. He had wandered up through a dense acreage of heavy swamps and woods. I fed him and checked him for wounds, fleas, and ticks.

I took him to a nearby vet, and they read a chip in his back that provided his owner's name. The owner had recently died. Per the obit, the cat was left a trust fund of $5,000 to be cared for by the dead owner's LPN, who was also mentioned in the Will on file.

I turned the situation over to a clerk I use who aspires to be Columbo. He found out from neighbors of the LPN that the cat was abused after the owner's demise. The LPN's boy toy said his gal hated the cat and abandoned him in the woods about five miles from my place. The hateful beooch kept the $5K for her own use.

The clerk and I like cats, and hate women like the LPN. We planned some type of comeuppance for the evil, crooked heifer. Our plan never materialized.

But karma did. The LPN was shot through the center mass of her torso with a 9mm at a street party recently and died in a pool of blood in the street in the hood.

Neither the cat, the clerk, nor I have cried over that 'tragedy'.

Change the setting to a small town at Christmastime and this has Hallmark Channel written all over it.

[Shootist Comitatus]

Great ending fo sho.

So…what’s become of the cat?

Cat's microchip revealed he is now 16 years old, and his name is Chewey. He has slowed but is mostly healthy. He is a constant companion when I am doing yard work. He sleeps inside for about 20 hours each day and night.

Russian Blues are easy to train and their behavior is stable. He is a favorite among friends and family.