While tooling around town with The Leaver and I Was A Stripper, I noticed a sign by the park that read, “MISSING KITTEN,” and then provided details about the kitten. “Why doesn’t anyone put up signs that read ‘MISSING PUSSY’ or ‘LOST BITCH’? I might be more inclined to help find them if they were worded differently. I might start putting up signs like that,” I said.
“When I was a kid my cat was named Pussy,” The Leaver advised us. “That explains a lot,” I Was A Stripper quipped. “Did you ever go outside and start calling for it? ‘Pussy, Pussy, Pussy. Come here Pussy, Pussy, Pussy,'” I called out and added, “I’m totally pretending I have a cat called Pussy. Gives the phrase ‘cat calling’ a whole new meaning. First thing tomorrow I am going to open the door and start calling for her. I may even call out for her tonight.”
“Meow, meow, meow. Stop looking, I’m right here. Meow,” I Was A Stripper purred from the backseat.