The Girl Upstairs

Remember that girl Brittany who I mentioned lived upstairs from me? The one who walks around on my ceiling like a bull elephant? The hot girl? The girl with the incredible ass? Well, I think she might have a cat.

I'm not sure. A few weeks ago I thought she might have a dog up there. I was certain her car had just pulled out of the driveway, yet there was something up there galloping around. Then I left a few minutes later and her car was there, so I dunno. But yesterday when I came home in the afternoon there was a cat in her window. I stopped for several seconds, thinking it might just be a stuffed animal, waiting for it to move. It didn't move and I started to feel conspicuous standing there, so I went in. Later when I went back out it was gone. So either it was stuffed and she moves it in or out of the window, or she has a cat.

That sitting in the window thing is exactly why I don't already have a cat. My front windows are in full view of everyone, and I'd totally get busted. I might be able to train a dog to stay out of sight, maybe, but you can't tell a cat anything. As soon as I'm gone, it'll do whatever it damn well pleases. Because it's a cat.

Now, if it turns out she does have a cat I don't see why I couldn't have one. One of the things I was looking forward to when I moved out of that Lebanon rathole was getting a cat, and it's a disappointment to me that I can't have one. Having a little kitten around here would lessen my loneliness and my boredom, and I would subsequently be less crazy. How do I find out?

I could just ask her. But doing that could make her defensive and she'd probably deny it anyway. So I'll keep my eye open instead for signs of that little black and white cat sitting in the window. Suppose I see it, and it's a real cat, then what? It isn't like I'm going to call the realtor guy and bust Brittany on having a cat. That's bad form, and I'm not that much of an asshole. I'm not sure yet what the best way to go about this would be.

But I'll think of something.