professionalism

Yesterday morning I heard a cat crying in the juniper bushes outside work, so naturally I dumped my bag and jacket in a pile, flagged down a facilities guy and made him listen for the cat (which he heard too, thereby proving I don't just make this shit up).

And since I didn't have any meetings for another hour and he was having a slow morning, we both dove into the bushes to rescue the cat, which sounded like it was in trouble or trapped.

Entering the abyss.

We spent 50 minutes crawling through the juniper, which was like a cave under all that green. (I won't lie: The entire time, I was picking out cat names.) We found two empty cigarette packs, a coffee cup lid and a spent bag of Ruffles, but sadly, no cat.

And now I have tiny, itchy red bumps on my wrists and hands because apparently I'm allergic to juniper sap. Also, let's not forget the stellar reputation I have no doubt earned with the coworkers who happened to walk by while I was in the bushes calling for kitty.

(I'm currently trying to convince myself there really was a cat and it wasn't some recording that an art student put out there to trap crazy cat ladies as part of some kind of social commentary on toxoplasmosis or something.)