I pack her up before I take off to Ben's apartment and load her in the car. Before long she was crying, because she doesn't like riding in the carrier. I've let her out before in the truck and she acted pretty good, so I went ahead and let her out again. As I pulled up to the front of Ben's apartment, I noticed his neighbor was doing something weird in the little parking lane. I decided that I would just pull around to the back. I got back there and called Ben to let him know to come down. It was about here that bad stuff began to happen.
It was such a nice night that I decided to roll down my window to let some of the cool breeze come through the truck. I figured that Sophia would like fresh air. She did. Only she liked it a little so much that she took off out of the truck. She took off for towards the crack houses.
Ben lives on the cusp of three distinct neighborhoods: the rich white collar professionals, a blue collar Hispanic community, and then the drug world at it's best. With those three choices, Sophia headed towards straight for the drug world. I swear it was a moment of Darwinian wonder as her instincts took her towards the crystal rocks that would fill her mind with sweet songs of mice singing songs and kitties eating them up. She was gone before I could react. Whoever said Cat Nip wasn't a gateway drug?
Ben came down and we decided to just let her go to the darkness. There is only so much an owner can do for his kitty. Sometimes she just has to learn the hard way. We ate dinner and saw a Frat Boy and his Short Skirt Band eat their food and perform the ritual that we call drunk frat boy somehow scores the girls. Then on the way back to Ben's apartment we saw the Miming Beggar who pretended to be holding a sign either because he's really creative or senile. Either way he deserved a few dollars. Then I dropped Ben off at his apartment.
I decided to turn down towards Little Crack Town. I drove a block and saw the Munger Street Baptist Church. It sounded like a place addicts would go when they are strung out for a nice meal or soup or maybe a movie. Indeed, Sophia had sought refuge on the front steps of the church. And who said cats don't have a soul? Oh, I think the Bible might actually say that. Ok, maybe the steps just looked inviting. She was on her back with her paws sort of rotating in a strung out fashion. I retrieved her and said my thanks to the church for being a place of refuge. Then I waved off the guy trying to sell her more crack. She has had enough, I said. Stay away from me...ok give me two rocks...I added. I just always wanted a crack rock, you know?
Well, I got her home and tried to give her a cold bath. Even strung out cats don't like the cold showers. She clawed my face in rage and ran off to the kitchen. I decided that maybe she wanted some milk and some of her dry food. I fed her and then she put herself to bed for the night.
I feel like I'm such a worthless owner. I raised her to be better than this and here she goes ruining everything. I think she even stole my two crack rocks and was smoking a pipe in her litter box, but I can't be certain. I don't like to invade her private space.
Together we might be able to repair what we have lost and put this nightmare behind us, but don't hold your breathe. I didn't raise the kitty to be like this.
(Sophia's mug shot showing her holding some of the remaining money used to fund her crack addiction)
