The other guys had the van and the equipment, but it made no sense for them to pick me up when I lived less than a block away. So here I was, guitar case in one hand, the orange tabby weaving in and out of my legs with every step. “Weird little puss.” Stopping to stare down at the animal as I reached the front door, I gave it a stern scowl. “Do not follow me in here. Understand? Not hygienic.” The cat responded by wrapping its front legs around my ankle. I was no hard hearted bastard; the notion that some stray kitty had taken such a shine to me that he was hugging me was kind of cute. Then I noticed the cat’s hips moving. Thrusting, to be precise. I stared down dumbly for a second, shouting when I realized that the cat was not hugging me at all, but rather humping my shoe. “Jesus, cat!”
