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there are no cats here

I don't see any.
I think i smell one
but i might be wrong.


Maybe they're just hiding. Cats are good at that.

Back in '96 or so, me and The Hippie were tripping out at his mother's place on Lake Lawrence, about 20 miles south of Tacoma. It was a great setting for doing acid or mushrooms (or both, though I don't recommend that): the house was spacious and well appointed, the neighborhood was rural and quiet, though the roads were paved and the nearest township was two or three miles away, practically walking distance. The lake was nearby, very scenic (even moreso with a headful of acid).

Also, there was a sheep ranch about six blocks away. Now, to me sheep are freaky cool. Me and The Hippie would get stoned and go to the Point Defiance Park Zoo, our favorite was the petting zoo, we'd goof on the barnyard animals. The Hippie liked the goats, and they were OK, but for my money it was the sheep. They just have a weird face, and something of a bemused look in their eyes.

So there we were, trippin' wires, it's about midnight and we decided to go for a walk (both of us enjoy nighttime walks). Pleasant night out, we walked by the sheep farm, but unlike some other nights, the sheep weren't out. Must've retreated to the barn or something. Too bad, I was really looking forward to seeing fuckin' sheep.

Walking back to the house, we passed several other houses and yards, and I got to wondering about how many cats were watching us. The night belongs to cats, I've long said: they're out and wandering around, you can't see them, they're hiding under cars or porches, they're in the trees and bushes--hell, one could be following you, you wouldn't know it unless they want to make their presence known. But they're always watching, they know your every move. I love cats.

Well, my lysergic mind started to conflate the two ideas, of cats and the missing sheep. Maybe...they didn't go back to the barn, maybe they're hiding, and watching us walk back to the house. Sheep in the bushes, up in the trees; sheep hiding under the cars, keeping an eye on these two acid freaks, pondering their next move. Sheep are friendly, though. Right? Nothing for us to worry about. Except--when you're on acid, you're continually thinking that you just forgot something, now what was it? Was there something about sheep that I couldn't remember, was there something I needed to keep in mind?...

We made it back to the house without incident. And without sheep.

You, on the other hand? Might want to check under the table--