My Squatter

I’m pretty sure there’s a cat living in my garage.

At least, I’m pretty sure it’s a cat.  It’s not my cat – I’ve never owned a pet, though I’ve often thought it would be nice.  For the most part, my new squatter is a quiet neighbor.  I wouldn’t even know she was there, except for the little tufts of hair she leaves lying around.  However, every now and again, I get little notes from her.  Usually, on the windshield of my car.  Right after it rains.

  

This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a squatter in my garage.  Of course, the last time I had a “guest” back there, I wound up having to clean up quite a mess afterwards – old moldy blankets, empty syringes, and a pair of soiled green briefs.

No, I think I like the cat better.

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