Okay, so yesterday morning on my exercise walk, I see this white-and-black cat laying dead by the side of the road. I stood over it, muttering curses at whoever hit it (despite all the speed bumps and police enforcement of the speed limit in Anchorage, people still drive like idiots out here). I almost took the dead cat's picture, but decided it would be too ghoulish and depressing. It bummed me out for the rest of the day.
This morning, I pass by the same spot again and see the cat laying there again. But as I approach, I kid you not, the cat rises up and turns to look directly at me. I let forth the most involuntary Homer Simpson scream you can imagine.
Apparently he had only been knocked unconscious by whatever hit him. Either that or last night's electrical storm did some Frankensteiny wonders for his constitution. Who knows. All that matters is, he's alive!!
I ran home and brought him back a can of cat food. He stood up, walked with a perfectly normal gait, and began eating. He seems completely unharmed. Tell me again that cats having nine lives is just an expression. Go, on, tell me.
He looks just like my Yoshi-cat
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