My husband and I were dressed up and ready for a lovely night out. Because we had been burgled before, we turned on a night light, packed up, and put our tubby cat outside.
But the moment our taxi arrived and we opened the front door, the cat darted right back inside and bolted upstairs to hunt our pet birds. Not wanting a crime scene in the living room, my husband rushed back inside to catch her.
Anxious to keep the taxi driver from knowing the house would be empty, I casually lied: “He’ll be right out. He’s just going upstairs to say goodnight to my mother.”
A few minutes later, my husband slammed the cab door shut, completely flushed and out of breath. As the taxi pulled away, he gasped turned to me, and blurted out:
“Sorry that took so long! The fat little rascal was hiding under the bed, so I had to poke her with a coat hanger to get her out! She tried to scratch me, so I wrapped her tight in a blanket, dragged her chunky self down the stairs, and threw her into the backyard. She’d better not crap in the vegetable garden again!”
The taxi driver went dead silent.
