Tessa's Experiences Living the Cartel Life: Or, My Cat Has More Adventures Than I Do.
“When a man is denied the right to live the life he believes in, he has no choice but to become an outlaw.” - Nelson Mandela
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Woke up feeling good despite some setbacks. All in all it wasn't a bad day yesterday except for Tessa running off in the middle of the night and no coming home after an hour or to as usual. So far she has been missing almost 20 hours, so I have been unable to administer her medication... then my right front tire went out on me (It developed a bubble the size of a tennis ball) and I had to use the last of my cat-related savings to keep Greta from becoming an expensive lawn ornament.
Thats life, you win some, you get kicked in the balls with a steel toed boot.
Many hours later, nearly 24, Tessa has returned. She is
clearly fond of our giant yard and the local businesses nearby, Thankfully the
neighborhood is fulled with generally nice folks, and her collar clearly states
where she lives,
That said, seeing a couple of apparent cartel enforcers
(I assume that is their job, given their dress, demeanor, and the fact that each of them was packing at least two hanguns poorly concealed) knocking on my door at odd hours looking like the badasses they are is more
than a little surprising after less than an hour of sleep. Opening the door
half expecting to get shot for some unknown slight I might have committed and
instead finding two huge, armed men playing with my cat who is being remarkably
social. Letting them pet and scratch her and say adorable things in Spanish
which she seems to half understand. Thankfully they spoke decent English.
"Is this your cat?"
"Yes, it is..."
"She wandered into our shop and hung out there for
awhile. We gave her some tuna, hope you don't mind."
"Not at all, she loves tuna.Thanks for taking care of
her and returning her safe and sound."
"Not a problem, she is a wonderful kitty. If she had
been a human however she might be buried in the desert right now, given how
easy she slipped into places she should not have been."
"I understand, sir, you two have a good night. Here,
have a beer, my way of saying thank you,"
"Oh, gracias! Say, you're that Americano writer who lives down
here, aren't you?"
"Thats me,"
"Man, have we got some stories... shame we can't tell
them."
"I hear that a lot, you two have a good night."
Upon retrieving Tessa and getting her settled back into the apartment she was bouncing off the walls, climbing on hings she knows not to climb on, and was generally giving me the 'Fuck you, you ain't the boss of me' look. My guess is before my neighbors discovered Tessa in their cutting room she had already discovered what it was they were cutting.
Normally Tessa is the most laid back cat imaginable without being lazy, tonight she was practically vibrating through solid matter. Some mild sedatives seemed to help with her wacky behavior and elevated heart rate and as of this writing she is more or less back to her old self again.
My cat has done more cocaine than I have. I'm honestly not sue what to say to that except to quote the Mighty Kronar the Barbarian; "Truly, the is my son.".
And that was Tessa's adventure hanging out with the cartel and helping (sampling) their merchandise. I have expect those two gentleman to show back up and offer to pay me to lend them Tessa for a day or two for quality control purposes. She does love drugs...
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This post and its
original content copyright James Radcliff, and has been brought to you by Mexico,
tequila, and generally poor decision making. If you would like to donate to
support this bizarre little travelogue, feel free to do so via Patreon or
PayPal. As always, this strange and debaucherous adventure has been brought to
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