Cat Bell

The other red-head

The good news is that Bill finally got himself a new car.  Well, new to him, it's actually a used car. At any rate it was well past time.  He'd hung on to his red mustang convertible for about 16 years.  He loved that car.  At first I wasn't happy about him having a 2 door convertible since we had a six year old and an eight year old at the time, plus I'm not a "wind in my hair" kind of girl. Battling the wind in my contacts, eating unknown critters that flew into my open mouth ( undoubtedly from screaming the speed limit was NOT 110 mph or other useful but unheeded advice ) and wasting perfectly good air-conditioning drove me nuts. Plus folding up my 5'9" frame into a pretzel shape getting in and out of that car was a pain.  But he loved it and a wise friend of mine told me it was better to have him rubbing on a red car than a red-headed woman.  So he got the car.  Although after watching him take car of his car ( not his thing) I soon realized I'd saved some woman a lot of grief. You're welcome woman.

this cat is named Bill,  I'm pretty sure.

Enter the new used car.    Enter a new problem.   After 16 years the mustang had become our ( me and the kids) version of a cat bell for warning the birds in the feeder.  Since you can hear it turn the corner 2 blocks away it was standard practice in our house - particularly the summer time to yell out "HE'S HOME", which was the universal signal for look like you've accomplished something of worth today so as not to expose our long practice of movie/nap time after lunch, which sometime extended to movie/nap time after movie/nap time after lunch. Over the years we had various versions of the cat bell , for instance one year he bought a pair of exercise shoes that squeaked. Not on purpose like you see toddlers wear but oh my god  just as annoying.  I hate those things by the way. But his shoes came in useful, especially to teenagers who were suppose to be studying or asleep.  When one of the kids finally revealed their secret to me I cracked up , and then of course used it to my own advantage.  Waste not, want not.  So now not only is the dog completely mystified that Bill suddenly appears at the backdoor with no trumpet of arrival we're all caught off guard.  Today I passed him in our own cove and thought who is that nut waving furiously at me.  oh, my nut!  Time to find a new cat bell.  The floor is now open for suggestions.